The Search
by RavenCurls
Summary: Fiyero Tiggular has been looking for the Wicked Witch of the West for all the wrong reasons. Until now. - 2nd place Best AU, 3rd place Best Overall Fic & 3rd place Best Author in the 9th Annual 'Wicked' Gregs Awards -
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

The upper floors of The Wizard's Palace were quiet. The lights along the corridors, usually brightly lit, were turned down, casting long dark flickering shadows along the corridors.

There were only a few guards on duty. Some of them were told to help out in the party downstairs while others had joined the party itself. There were two guards on duty at the door to the Throne Room. Their eyes looked straight ahead, glazed. One of them stumbled and then straightened himself. The other guard snickered.

"Told you you shouldn't' have drunk so much." He gestured to the empty bottles next to them.

"Hic," the first guard protested.

They might be officially on duty, but that had not stopped their colleagues from bringing up a carton of beer so that they could celebrate with the rest. The second guard rubbed his eyes. He would stay awake, he promised himself. He looked ahead of him, at the corridor that stretched in front of them and ended in darkness. It was the only passageway to the Throne Room, the only way anyone could approach the room. In his slightly tipsy state (though he blamed it on the dim lights), the straight corridor split into two, winding and curving like a silk ribbon on a lady's hair. He blinked his eyes and the two corridors merged into one again. The guard swore and rubbed his eyes again.

He did not notice the dark figure that flew past.

The Witch came on her broom. She saw, through the windows lining the corridor, the two guards who were on duty outside the Throne Room. One of them stumbled, and the empty bottles by their side told her that they were not taking their duties seriously. Fools, she thought as she deliberately steered closer to the windows, tempting fate, hoping that they would see her.

They did not.

The Witch turned her broom around and flew past the windows again, but still the guards did not notice her. She thought of hollering at them but changed her mind at the last minute. She had more important things to do than to frazzle the nerves of two guards.

The Witch flew directly into the Throne Room through one of its opened windows.

She landed smoothly, her boots making barely a sound on the marble floor. The room was surprisingly lit and she froze for a moment, fully convinced that there must be a trap somewhere. Perhaps the guards would burst into the room with their rifles raised, or a cage would come crashing down from the ceiling and trapped her. She took a first step after a while, followed by a second, but nothing happened, and she approached the big, ugly bronze head with trepidation, her broom in her hand, ready to ward off any surprise attack.

She knew where the lever was. She had seen the Wizard pulled it the last time. She moved toward the bronze head. She remembered how menacing the head had looked the first time she saw it, with its eyes glowing red accompanied by the flashing lights and plumes of smoke. But now the lights were off and the eyes looked dead, and the head looked more silly than menacing. She shook her head to clear away the memories from another lifetime.

There it was, the lever. The Witch yanked on it with more force than necessary. The red curtain behind the bronze head jingled lightly before it moved along the railing on the floor and revealed a large cage that spanned the width of the Throne Room and touched the ceiling. The cage was filled with Monkeys, looking strangely human with their bulging eyes and scrawny limbs. They were all naked, except for one. The Animals stared at her, silent. Behind them, their wings unfurled slowly, reaching their full span.

It was as if they knew why she was here and were ready.

She approached the cage, a finger to her lips, not knowing if the Monkeys could understand the universal sign for silence. She did not know if they were capable of making any sound anymore, but it would not do her any good if they kicked up a ruckus and drew the attention of the guards outside. Despite her impulsive nature, she did not plan to die on that day.

She put her broom on the floor and pressed her palms on the metal bars. There must be a door somewhere.

She moved quietly along the length of the cage, trying to find the opening to the cage. She had just found it when she heard a voice behind her.

"I know that you will be back."

* * *

Downstairs, the party was in full swing.

The room was crowded. Politicians rubbed shoulders with businessmen while famous personalities joked with generals. Glasses clinked as two Gillikinese businessmen sealed a business deal, and giggles erupted between three young women as they eyed a handsome soldier near them. In a corner, a live band played the latest music and the guests danced to the tune, the gentlemen's hands placed lightly on the back of the ladies as they twirled around the ballroom.

A member of the cabinet had just arrived, and Glinda moved gracefully across the room to welcome him, unhampered by the big puffy gown that she wore. The gown was custom made for the party, its bodice a pale green to match the dark green of the Gale Force uniform that Fiyero wore. The spaghetti straps showed off her slim shoulders, while the sequins of various shades of green and gold formed a V shape down the front, emphasizing her figure. The petals at the back of her skirt were of a darker shade of green, decorated with thousands of sequins and beads that were stitched onto the fabric by hand. The gown sparkled under the light, and so did the tiara that she had on her head. Fiyero knew that the gown and the tiara weighed more than the clothes that he wore, but Glinda did not seem to be affected by all those weight. She looked absolutely radiant, a smile on her face as she gave her hand to the grumpy new arrival to kiss. The old man said something and Glinda placed her fingers on her lips, giggling daintily before she pointed towards Fiyero's direction. The man turned and smiled perfunctory at Fiyero. The prince nodded in response and he reached out automatically for a glass of wine as a waiter passed by.

"Great party," a dry voice spoke next to him.

Fiyero looked at the man next to him. Like most of the younger guests, he was fashionably dressed. His shirt was rumpled though and his collar opened. He held a bottle in his hand, and took a swig from it before he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Where did you get that from, Avaric?" he frowned slightly at the liquor swishing inside the bottle. The bottle was almost empty.

"The kitchen. There was a girl who was most willing to accommodate my requests for alcohol and … other things." Avaric snickered.

Fiyero scoffed. Avaric was a university friend, but he never understood his penchant for bedding every girl between the age of fifteen to fifty.

The Gillikinese interpreted his expression correctly.

"You can't blame me for that. Ever since you appear in the Emerald City, all every girl wants is an Arjiki boyfriend. Tall, dark, handsome Arjiki with the heart of a warrior and the soul of a poet. Poor thing like me no longer stand a chance anywhere. I'm passé, out of fashion. I'm as good as yesterday's newspapers, barely good enough to wrap the rotting vegetables sold in the market."

Fiyero ignored him. Avaric could be very dramatic at times.

"By the way, I forget to congratulate you. Congratulations! To both your promotion and engagement." The Gillikinese lifted his bottle for a toast.

Fiyero clinked his glass against Avaric's bottle but did not sip from his glass.

"Though if I didn't know better," he continued, "I would think that she sprung it on you. You look more like someone who has a noose tightening around his neck than a man who is getting engaged to the love of his life."

Fiyero ignored the last jab.

Avaric did not seem to notice Fiyero's lack of interest in the conversation. "It's interesting how Shiz manages to turn out brilliant students year after year. I don't mean teeny, tiny, insignificant me of course," he said, though Fiyero knew very well that the future Margreave had never thought of himself as either tiny or insignificant. "We got people like Glinda, the sweet voice of the Wizard. We got people like you, deeply involved in military politics …"

"I don't dabble in politics, Avaric. I am the captain of the Gale Force. I don't play with politics. My job is to maintain the peace in Oz, to bring criminals to justice and to make Oz a safer place for everyone."

"Ah yes, the taint of Shiz." Avaric shook his head dramatically.

Fiyero was about to reply when Glinda suddenly appeared next to him.

She curled one hand around his arm as she gave her other hand to Avaric, who kissed it.

"Thank you so much for coming, Avaric," she said gaily.

"Wouldn't miss this for the world," was his reply.

Glinda giggled, and then excused herself and Fiyero as she pulled her fiancé away.

"Fiyero, have you seen the Wizard?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"He is supposed to be giving his speech in twenty minutes and I can't seem to find him anywhere."

Fiyero had no idea what the speech was about, though he suspected that it had something to do with Glinda. No, it definitely had something to do with Glinda, and she knew what it was, for she had swept into his office two days ago brimming with excitement and told him that the Wizard had planned to give a speech during the engagement party.

"Can you please go and find him, dearest?" she asked him. Fiyero nodded as he patted her hand reassuringly. The Captain squeezed through the crowd toward the exit, thanking and acknowledging the guests and colleagues who offered their congratulations on his engagement and promotion.

It was nighttime, and short of leaving the Palace, there were only a few places that the Wizard would usually go to. Fiyero went to his first choice. The Wizard always liked the Throne Room. He had a secret room tucked at the back of The Throne Room that was out of bounds to everyone. Fiyero had found the Wizard more than once, sitting in front of the big bronze head, high on something that he had consumed. He hoped that he would not find the Wizard drunk. It would be difficult to sober him up in time for the speech.

Fiyero approached The Throne Room. The two guards stood to attention, or at least they tried to.

"Is the Wizard inside?" he asked. The guards nodded as they stood to the side. Fiyero nodded his thanks and opened the door before he closed it behind him. He did not want the guards to hear anything if the Wizard was really drunk and started to sing or mumble something nonsensical.

He went in just in time to see what seemed like a shadow jumping out of one of the windows. Somewhere near to the bronze head, a lump covered by a blanket cloth shivered uncontrollably. And then someone whimpered and got his attention.

The Wizard was on the floor. He was sober but he was not alone.

Facing the Wizard was a woman, her back to Fiyero. A tall woman dressed in a black dress that hung from her thin frame. She wore a black pointed hat and some of her hair had escaped from the confines of the hat, curling gently in the breeze that came in through the windows. But there was nothing gentle about her stance. She took a step toward the old man, a green hand raised. She held a broom in that hand, her knuckles turning white with the force that she gripped the stick, as if she was about to strike any moment. The Wizard cowered in fear.

Fiyer took out his gun slowly.

The Wizard cast a glance at Fiyero and the Captain could see the fear in his eyes, but the old man was so scared that he was not able to ask the Captain for help, nor plead the woman for mercy. The Wizard's limbs skittered on the polished floor as he tried to back away from the woman, but he soon found his back against the bronze head; he was trapped.

The woman continued to advance, her eyes on the Wizard who now stretched out a trembling hand as if the feeble gesture could stop her. The Wizard glanced at Fiyero again, panic written all over his face.

It was obvious that there must be someone else in the Throne Room. The Wizard's constant glances behind her should have alerted her to his presence, even if she had not heard the sounds when he entered the room. Fiyero expected her to pause or to see who was behind her but she did not. It was as if she did not think that anyone who entered the room could be a threat to her.

The Captain brought up his other hand to steady the gun.

A gust of wind came into the Throne Room as he took a breath, wrapping the black skirt around her legs and sending the strands of raven black hair drifting in the air. There was something eerily breathtaking about the scene, but Fiyero focused instead on the one shot that he was about to give.

There was no mistake who she was. She was the woman who had occupied his mind for the past few years, the one whom he had been searching for so long. And he had finally found her. He exhaled slowly and pulled the trigger.

He did not register the sound of the gunshot. Nor did he hear the soft gasp that escaped from her lips when the bullet penetrated her flesh. But he knew that he had hit his target when the witch's legs buckled and she slid slowly to the ground.

**A/N New multi-chap. This takes place in Act II, so our favourite characters are older and more mature, though not necessary wiser.**

**As the story progresses, some of you may notice the similarities between this story and MyLittleElphie's Worlds Apart. The two stories are developed separately and any similarities are purely coincidental. I have to admit that I steal her idea for the Wicked dolls (see story image if you are not reading in mobile mode) though – she made these absolutely cute Wicked keychains for the lucky Australian cast! Some people are just multi-talented *green eyed***

**Once again, thank you to those who reviewed for The Prologue. Your reviews are like gemstones – beautiful and precious. And thank you to those who nominated/voted for me in the Annual Gregs Award. It is much appreciated.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

It was over faster than he expected.

Fiyero approached the witch cautiously from behind, his gun still trained on her. He watched as the Witch attempted to stand up using her broom as a crutch. He had to admire her for her strength, for he had seen bigger and seemingly stronger men who had collapsed with similar wounds. He turned slightly as he approached her so that he would face her. She finally managed to stand up, and her legs buckled again when she looked up and saw the face of the man who had shot her.

Her face fell. Her lips moved, but no words came out.

The rumours always described the Wicked Witch of the West as a crazy old woman with moulting skin, skin the colour of sin. Some even said that she had an extra eye that always remained awake. But the Witch in front of him looked nothing like that. Sure, she had green skin, but it was not dry and scaly. And she was not old. She looked like she was around his age or perhaps a bit older. He had expected someone with a wicked sneer and a twisted face, perhaps even foaming at the mouth, but he saw nothing of that. But there was something that he did not expect to see – a pair of brown eyes filled with so much sadness it almost hurt for him to see.

Fiyero felt his posture faltered, and he re-aimed his gun at her.

Just then, the door burst open and half a dozen guards rushed in and surrounded the Witch. They aimed their rifles at her, shouting conflicting commands. But she did not seem to hear them; her eyes never left the Captain's face.

A whiff of the scent of Gillikin rose told Fiyero that someone else entered the room. The rustling of a gown, followed by a gasp.

He did not need to turn around to know who it was.

"Glinda, you'd better go," he told his fiancée, his eyes still trained on the green girl.

"Fiyero…"

"Please, just go back to the ball. She's dangerous."

"But she's…"

Madame Morrible came into the room just then and stopped next to Glinda.

"So this is true," the older woman said. "Your betrothed had captured the Wicked Witch. Good job, Captain."

"Thank you, Madame," Fiyero replied, his eyes still not leaving the woman in front of him. "Gentlemen, please take her into custody," he told his men, and two of them quickly stepped behind the Witch and twisted her hands behind her, forcing her to the ground as they handcuffed her. She looked at Fiyero and Glinda, her expression no longer readable.

Fiyero finally turned and looked at Glinda. Her face was pale, and he noticed that she was trembling.

He holstered his gun and placed a hand on the small of her back.

"Glinda, let's go," he told her as he gave the prisoner one last look. Someone had pulled off her hat, and her long black hair cascaded down, resting on her shoulders like a cloak. The hair framed her face delicately, and Fiyero had to turn away.

She was just a girl.

* * *

The Wizard's Palace was both the home of the Wizard and the office of his administration. It had endless corridors, hundreds of rooms and thousands of windows. There was an in-house kitchen that could whip up a feast at a moment's notice for hundreds of guests, four ballrooms that could accommodate more than five hundred people each, a hair salon, a tailor, two bakeries, three restaurants, a bookstore and a doctor (besides the Wizard's personal physician who only attend to him). Deliveries were made daily for the items that were not available. The only thing that was not available and could not be delivered was a prison.

It was thus decided that the Wicked Witch of the West would be locked in a small, dirty, windowless room in the basement, guarded by two guards. The room used to be a storeroom, but was no longer in use. Fiyero had wanted to send her to Southstairs immediately but Madame Morrible stepped in. It was a day of celebration, she had reminded him, and they should not give the Witch a chance to ruin it with her ill-timed appearance. She would be transported to Southstairs first thing in the morning.

The Wizard did not give his speech as planned. He shook uncontrollably, even after the Witch had been removed from his sight, and had to be helped up. Even then, the ruler's knees shook like jelly as he attempted to walk, and he had to be assisted by two bodyguards. His personal physician was called in. The Witch was escorted to her cell by the four guards who would guard the temporary prison on a rotational basis. The two guards on the first shift were in a good mood when Fiyero went down to check on the prisoner. They joked and laughed, and congratulated each other on the capture of the Witch.

Fiyero went back to the Throne Room after that. Madame Morrible had left the room by then. He looked out at the external walls, searching for any claws or ropes that could provide a hint on how the Witch's accomplice that he had seen had escaped. There were none. He dispatched his men to go outside the palace to look for witnesses, and they returned shortly and reported that they were unable to find any. He was not surprised. The windows of the Throne Room faced a garden with a lake, and the garden was not lit at night. The possibility of finding anyone there at night was remote. Without any witness, there was no way he could know if the accomplice was male or female, human or Animal.

Glinda was having an animated conversation with two young women, the daughters of a senior officer, when Fiyero went back to the ballroom. He slipped an arm around her waist, and the blonde turned around and gave him a radiant smile before she kissed him on his cheek. There was no sign of that trembling girl that he had seen in the Throne Room earlier on. The music started again, and Fiyero led her to the dance floor. The couple spent the rest of the evening dancing with each other. She looked back at him, a smile on her face.

"What are you thinking?" she asked softly. Fiyero smiled back.

"Just how beautiful you are," he replied automatically. Glinda giggled. Fiyero held his fiancée close as they swayed gracefully to the music, but his mind wandered, replaying the scene in the Throne Room over and over again, reliving the first glimpse he had of the Witch, the sadness in her eyes.

The party ended before midnight, and his men pulled Fiyero to a nearby pub for another round of celebration. He treated his men to several rounds of beer, but left after the first round. His men did not mind.

Fiyero stood outside the pub. It was a long night and he still had to submit a report in the morning on the arrest of the Witch. He looked at the Wizard's Palace. The building loomed tall in the darkness, the yellow lights on the both the interior and exterior casting an eerie glow on the green walls. Glinda should be asleep by now, and so would the Wizard. But the guards on duty would still be awake. He could carry out his interrogation tomorrow morning before the Witch was moved to Southstairs, or he could do it tonight. He doubted that he would be able to sleep tonight. He could have killed the Witch with the one chance that he had, but that was never his intention; he only wanted to stop her from harming the Wizard. There was so much information he could get from her that she was more useful alive than dead. He thought of the Witch and, for a strange moment, wondered how much the gunshot wound hurt. He shook his head. The injuries of the prisoners were not his concern; the doctor in Southstairs would take care of that. He turned his thoughts to the shadow that he had seen jumping out of the window when he had first entered the Throne Room. He wanted to know who her accomplice was. There was another arrest to be made, and soon.

Fiyero turned and made his way back to his office which was two streets away. He had a safety kit in his office. Perhaps the Witch would be more cooperative if he showed some kindness to her. The report would have to wait. He never liked to write reports anyway.

* * *

If anyone had looked in, they might think that the Witch was asleep or dead. She was propped against the wall, her head down, like an unwanted toy left on a shelf. Her hands hung lifeless in front of her, cuffed, and her legs were splayed. The only sign of life was the blood that was still oozing out from the gunshot wound on her leg. And she stayed in that position, not moving, not even when the door opened cautiously and a head popped in.

"Elphie?" a soft voice asked.

The Witch looked up and raised her hands to shield her eyes from the bright glow in the other person's hand.

"Oh sorry," the voice said and she quickly mumbled something and the light dimmed significantly. She stood there for a while and then hastily stepped into the small confined space, trying not to wrinkle her nose at the smell in the room.

"Sweet Lurline, what are you waiting for? A green carpet?" she chided the Witch gently.

"Glinda?" the Witch blinked her eyes, bringing them into focus.

"Yes, it's me. Of course, it's me."

The blonde quickly squatted down in front of the Witch. She pulled up the hem of her skirt and tucked it in her lap, trying to prevent her skirt from coming into contact with the dirty floor as she slotted a key into the tiny hole on the cuff. It opened easily.

"I got your broom." With that, Glinda shoved the old, weather-worn stick into the green girl's hand. It was not much of a broom anymore. There was hardly any bristle left. The stick had been smoothened through years of wear and tear, but its tip was sharp, having broken off recently. The feel of the broom seemed to trigger something in the Witch, and she struggled to stand up, using it as a support like before. She winced in pain as she put some of her weight on the injured leg.

The Witch looked at Glinda the Good. She had changed out of her ball gown and was dressed in a simple blue dress ending above her knees. There was a sling bag across her body.

"Wait," she said as she bent down in front of the Witch. She took a piece of gauze from the bag and wrapped it around the wound, stopping the blood from flowing.

"That's better," she commented as she stood up and wrapped an arm under the other girl's shoulders. "Come on," she said as they hobbled out of the room.

* * *

At the main gate, the guards greeted the Captain of the Gale Force and let him in. He made his way immediately to the basement. More and more questions were popping into his head, and he would like to get them answered as soon as possible.

* * *

The Witch looked at both sides of the corridor when Glinda closed the door behind them and secured the padlock to the door. "No guard?" she asked, surprised to find the corridor empty.

"Are you complaining?" the blonde asked. The Witch shook her head slightly.

"Well, I kind of suggested that they must be tired and hungry guarding you, and that there is some leftover food in the kitchen. 'Isn't it a waste to throw away all these delicious food?' I asked. What I didn't tell them was that I had sprinkled something into the food before that. Ingenious, aren't I?" She tried to stifle a giggle and then looked at her injured friend and was glad to see a slight smile on her face.

Glinda turned to the left, towards the back of the Palace. They had barely reached the staircase at the end of the corridor when she heard the sound of footsteps coming down to the basement from the other end of the corridor.

"Hurry," she said as she helped Elphie up the stairs.

Fiyero reached the basement. The lights were dim, and he wished that he had brought some light. There was some scurrying at the other end of the long corridor, but there was no one to be seen. Rats perhaps. The basement and the lesser-used corridors were filled with vermin. The whole place was quiet as he expected, but something was wrong. It was a tick-tock before he knew what it was.

The door to the cell. It was closed and locked, but it was unguarded.

"Guards!" he raised his voice.

Glinda nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard his voice. She looked behind her, expecting to see Fiyero at the foot of the stairs. He was not. She pulled the Witch's hand as they made their way up and stopped at the top of the stairs. Glinda pushed at a part of the wall lined with faint markings. The wall moved with hardly a groan, revealing a dark passageway. The two girls went in, and the wall closed behind them.

Glinda knew the whole castle like the back of her hand and she led the way, deciding to go this way or that, or choosing a route that was not guarded and not in use. The Witch was surprised by the number of secret passageways and corridors. There were so many of them, hidden behind tapestries or in plain sight. She wished that she had known of them before. She wanted to ask Glinda how many more such hidden passageways there were, but her friend was too busy determining the way to go. They could hear shouts from different directions, male voices that were uncomfortably close, and they knew that an alarm had been raised and a massive search for the escaped prisoner was underway.

Glinda started to walk faster, but the Witch stopped in her tracks.

"Go," she whispered to her friend. "You can't be found with me."

Glinda shook her head. "I can't leave you here. You'll get caught. We'll be there soon," she promised as she gave the green hand a tug, not explaining where 'there' was.

The Witch swallowed and allowed herself be pulled again.

Many turns later, Glinda pushed at a wall in front of them and the duo found themselves on the upper floor of the castle, near to the Throne Room. The corridor was thankfully empty. The windows lining the corridor had never looked more inviting.

The shouts of the men echoed from downstairs. They were not out of the woods yet.

"Here," the petite blonde pulled the sling bag over her head and hanged it on the green girl's neck. "There are antiseptic, gauzes, cotton wool and some food inside. And your hat." The two girls could not help but smiled at the mention of the hat. The ghastly, black pointed hat that had sealed their friendship so many years ago, turning the two roommates who had loathed each other initially into best friends.

"Now go." She grasped the taller girl's hand, unwilling to let go. The Witch's long fingers wrapped around hers.

"Thank you, Glinda, for still caring about me," she finally choked out the words.

"Of course I still care about you, silly," Glinda pressed a hand to her cheek. "I always will. We're best friends, aren't we?"

The Witch nodded. She looked down and noticed the sparkling ring on the blonde's finger.

"I'm so sorry for today, for spoiling your engagement party," she sniffed slightly and then tried to give a brave smile. "And I forget to say congratulations to you – to you and Fiyero. I wish the two of you happiness."

There was no tear, her Elphie would never cry, but Glinda wiped her cheek, trying to erase the sadness from her face. And because she herself would cry if she stopped moving and stopped talking.

"Elphie, please don't be angry with Fiyero. He's just doing his job."

The Witch nodded slightly. Another shout in the distance. The guards were getting closer.

"Can you fly with that wound?" Glinda asked as she watched the other girl swung the broom between her legs.

"I can fly it even if I have no leg," the Witch replied dryly.

"Elphie!" Glinda admonished, knocking on the dirty old broom for effect and the Witch cackled softly.

The two of them stood there, facing each other, each unwilling to say the last word, until Glinda thought she heard the sound of footsteps approaching and the sense of danger returned to them.

"Goodbye, Elphie, and try not to put yourself in danger again."

"Try not to buy another pair of shoes, Glinda," was her reply and she was gone.

Glinda placed her hands on the window ledge and was about to lean out of the window when she heard a voice behind her.

"Glinda?"

She spun around.

Fiyero was there, still in his Gale Force uniform. A few of his men were behind him. They were all armed.

"What are you doing here?" he asked as his men moved to the windows and looked outside.

She held her breath until they had finished looking out of the windows. They did not see anything.

"Well… ," Glinda twisted the ring on her finger as she stepped away from the window. "I couldn't sleep and so I just walk around. And I thought I saw a shooting star. It's a good omen, you know." She gave a nervous giggle. "So why are you gentlemen here?" she asked innocently.

"The Witch has escaped, Glinda." She tried to look surprise. Fiyero's eyes bored into hers. He knew, she thought. Her hands shook, and she quickly put them behind her back.

"Do you happen to see anything or hear anything suspicious?" He asked as he took a step towards her. She shook her head. The air suddenly turned stifling and Glinda found that she could not breathe.

"Glinda?" his eyes softened, and his voice was softer as he took another step and his hands reached out to her. "Glinda, are you alright? You look –"

Glinda fainted into her fiancé's arms before he could finish his sentence.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**A/N More insight into the Flinda relationship. Part of their interaction in this chapter is very much influenced by their emotions in the scene Thank Goodness.**

Fiyero stood outside the Wizard's suite, his hands in the pockets of his pants, fisted.

He usually did not go to the Wizard's private quarters. All his meetings with the Wizard were held either in the Throne Room or in the Wizard's office. And now he was going to his room for the second time in less than twelve hours. He and his men had searched the whole palace the night before, hoping that the Witch was still somewhere in the building. Fiyero had even gone to the Wizard's bedroom and checked the place while the old man slept fitfully on his bed. But the Witch was nowhere to be found.

He had questioned the guards who were supposed to watch over the Witch. Initially, they had insisted that they had only left the cell unguarded for a moment. It was only after repeated questioning that they admitted that they had stomach problems after consuming the food from the party and all four of them had gone to the toilet at the same time, leaving the Witch unguarded.

Her broom and hat were conveniently missing too.

Fools.

Fiyero cursed himself for his lapse of judgement. He should have insisted that the Witch be escorted to Southstairs that same night. But Glinda had sided with Madame Morrible and told him to cut the soldiers some slack. It was a night of celebration, she reminded him, their engagement party, and she wanted everyone to remember it as such, not as the night where they captured the Witch. One night would not make any difference; the Witch would still be there in the morning, she reasoned.

Obviously she was wrong.

He took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

"Come in," the Wizard said.

Fiyero entered the room. The Wizard was still dressed in his sleeping robe, halfway through his breakfast. As Fiyero watched, his servant cleared away the untouched omelette and served his tea in a tiny emerald green cup and saucer. The eye bags below the Wizard's eyes were darker than usual; he looked as if he did not have a good night sleep. The Captain waited as the old man brought the porcelain cup to his lips while his other hand held the saucer. The hands trembled, making a tiny ringing sound with the tea set. The Wizard drank half the tea before he acknowledged the presence of the man who was standing in front of him with a bright smile.

"Captain, are you here to deliver the good news to me? Is the Witch now under maximum security in Southstairs?" he asked. "Have I ever told you that I always know that you will be the one who will capture her? I knew it the first time I saw you at the graduation ceremony, standing smart and proud among the other soldiers. You have that determined look about you, Captain, and I know that besides working hard, you will also work smart. And I am right. By the way, I apologise about the minor inconvenience caused to your engagement party. I was supposed to give an announcement. You do know what it is about, don't you?"

The Wizard rattled on when there was no reply from Fiyero.

"I am absolutely thrillified when Glinda told me about your engagement. And I thought hard about what I can give to a girl who has everything. And then I remember. She always likes the North Ballroom. She always says that it is her favourite out of the four ballrooms. And Gillikin is in the North of Emerald City. So what is a better gift for her than to rename the North Ballroom to her name in honour of her contribution to Oz and also for her engagement to my newly promoted Captain?" The Wizard punched the air with his cup as he enunciated the next few words. "The Glinda Ballroom." He beamed at the captain, proud of his originality. "What do you think? Don't you think that it is a great idea, Captain?" The Wizard finally stopped.

Fiyero looked at the ruler of Oz.

"I'm afraid I have bad news, Your Ozness," he said, his face impassive.

"What bad news?"

"The Witch escaped in the middle of the night, Your Ozness. She is no longer in our custody."

It was funny how everything went into slow motion then. The Wizard's jaw slackened and his fingers let go of the cup and saucer. The porcelain fell onto the carpeted floor soundlessly and its contents spilled onto the green carpet, staining it a deeper shade.

Fiyero knelt down immediately and picked up the items before placing them on the coffee table.

"I'm sorry, Your Ozness." He noticed that the Wizard's hands were now shaking uncontrollably. The Wizard saw the same, and he quickly gripped his knees with his hands in a bid to hide the shaking. His voice was trembling too when he spoke again.

"She escaped?"

"I take full responsibility for this, Your Ozness. The Witch escaped under my watch and I will accept whatever punishment that you give me. I take full responsibility for this and I promise you that I will capture her again."

The Wizard shook his head slowly, as if in a daze. He tried to stand up but his legs turned into jelly and he fell back on his seat. Both Fiyero and his servant rushed to his side but he waved them off.

"Are you alright, Your Ozness?"

The Wizard nodded his head. "I need a rest, Captain." He gestured with his fingers, signaling for him to leave.

Fiyero looked back when he was at the door. The Wizard was still on the couch. As Fiyero watched, the old man took out a green bottle from his pocket and drank from it. The drink seemed to calm him somehow and his shaking lessened. The Wizard covered his face with his hands as he leaned back on the couch and let out an almost inaudible moan of despair.

Fiyero made his way to the other side of the palace. Glinda was in her office as he had expected. It was not officially her office, but more of a room that she had monopolised and converted for her own use. With the Wizard's permission, she had renovated the room, turning it from its previous emerald green setup (like almost all the rooms in the palace) into a room of pink and pastel. The wallpaper was pastel with embossed flowers. The curtains were pink and sheer. There was a couch with pink flowers matched with green cushions with lacy white trimmings. All the wooden furniture was carved with flowers, and there were always fresh flowers in the room.

Glinda was with someone whom he had not met before. The man looked at her as she spoke animatedly and seemed to write down every single word she said. Her engagement ring flashed as it caught the sunlight. Fiyero frowned when he noticed the ring. Avaric had hit too close to home when he said that Fiyero looked as if he had a noose around his neck. The truth was that he did not choose the ring. As a matter of fact, he did not even propose to her. It had happened so quickly he still had no idea what exactly had happened. One moment they were celebrating a "Wicked Witch-free Day" and an official announcement of his promotion and the next moment Madame Morrible was congratulating him on his engagement.

Glinda saw him then, and with a single "Dear!" she went to him and effectively dismissed the man who was with her. Glinda tip-toed and kissed him on his cheek, and the man tried to walk past them discreetly on his way out.

Glinda took a long time to dust some non-existing lint from his Gale Force uniform, and it was only when the door closed that the frozen smile disappeared from her face.

"Have you spoken to His Ozness?" she asked with a hint of concern in her voice.

He nodded and went to the bar counter that was near to the windows. Instead of pouring himself something strong (Glinda did have some of those for her visitors. She was always so thoughtful), he poured himself a glass of cold water from the water jug. He moved to the windows instead of sitting on the couch. He never liked the couch. It was custom made for someone of Glinda's height, which meant that it got uncomfortable if he sat there for too long. While the couch was pink, the cushions were emerald green in colour. There was something, something about pink going with green, that made him distinctly uncomfortable.

Glinda went to him again, her hand gentle on his arm as he stared out of the window.

"Is he mad?" she asked softly.

Fiyero turned to look at her and shook his head. "He's more scared than angry."

Relief flooded her face.

"I'll find her. I'll find her and I'll …" he suddenly remembered the Witch's face, the pain that she tried to hide, and his words trailed off.

"Fiyero," Glinda placed a hand on his chest. "Can you do something for me? Can you ask for a transfer?"

"A transfer?" He looked at her, confused.

She nodded.

"Why? I've just been made captain. I can't ask for a transfer now."

"I worry about you every day, dearest." She placed a hand on his face. "I worry every time you go on a mission. I pray every time that you will come back safe and sound."

Fiyero removed her hand from his face.

"It's my job, Glinda. It's my responsibility. I can't ask my men to go out and risk their lives while I sit in the office. And there's nothing to worry about. I am the best. I know how to take care of myself. Haven't I been coming back safe and sound?"

"But I worry about you!" Her pitch went higher. "What happen if your luck runs out one day? I'm so worried that you will get hurt, Fiyero. And now that we are going to be married…"

Fiyero let out his breath. He did not want to talk about this, not so early in the day and not after the eventful night but it seemed that he was unable to avoid that.

"I didn't ask for the engagement," he said simply. Her lip quivered, and she pressed her fingers on her lips.

"Glinda…" He placed his hands on her shoulders. "Glinda, I have told you so many times. I am not suitable for you. I appreciate you standing by my side for so many years, tolerating the long hours that I keep. But I am not the one for you. My job is my first priority and that is unfair to you. You deserve someone better. Someone who will put you as his first priority, someone who loves you more than anything else in the world."

"But I don't want anyone else. I only want you, Fiyero. You are the only one who knows me." She whimpered. "I don't mind your long hours. I don't mind that you think that your job is more important than me. I just don't want you to get hurt. If you really like your job so much, I won't even insist that you ask for a transfer. But just be careful, and come back to me safe and sound every day. That's all I ask of you."

"Is that too much to ask for?" she asked timidly. "All I want is a little corner in your heart." She placed a finger on his chest and drew a little triangle over his heart with her fingertip before she lifted her face to his expectantly. Fiyero knew what she wanted; they had been together for so long. He kissed her lightly on her lips, careful not to smudge her makeup or to mess up her beautiful curls.

"Are you happy, dear?" Glinda asked as she rested her face lightly on his chest.

"You know me, I'm always happy," was his reply as he wrapped his arms around her shoulder. Glinda gave a contented sigh and he looked out of the window again.

Glinda was beautiful and smart. They had been together for so long. He had been told by so many people that he was lucky to have her and they were such a perfect couple. So why was he not more passionate in their relationship? Why was he more interested in his job? Why was he not more spontaneous in his affections, more responsive to hers? Why did he feel as if there was an emptiness within him, something incomplete, and how that feeling threatened to engulf him on certain days?

* * *

He stood in the middle of his office, in a building not far from the Wizard's Palace. It was a small office, but there was space for a table and two chairs and it was good enough for him. There were a few captains in the Gale Force, but he was the youngest to be appointed and the only one who had risen through the ranks so quickly. There were talks of favoritism of course, since he was so close to Glinda, but everyone in the Gale Force knew better. He trained harder and worked harder than anyone else. He took an interest in the soldiers' welfare but stayed out of their private lives. He motivated his team, empowered them and led by example. If there was any complaint, it would be that he was too obsessed with his work.

There was no window in his office and he never saw a need for it. He had the tendency to lose track of time when he was engrossed in his work, and there was more than once when Glinda popped in and told him that he had skipped a meal or two without him knowing.

He looked at the map in front of him. It was the map of Oz and its surrounding lands. On the map were pins of different colours. Each pin indicated an event related to the Witch, with a different colour indicating the different categories; blue for reported sightings, orange for activities that were attributed to her and red for activities where she was actually seen. He stared at the map, but he did not really need the pins to remind him; he had memorised every single report and its details. He looked at the newly added pin on his map, a red pin on the middle of the Emerald City, where the Wizard's Palace should be.

His first face-to-face encounter with the Witch.

While Oz might be more peaceful than the surrounding lands (according to the propaganda anyway), she had her fair share of crimes. There were different kinds of criminals, ranging from petty thieves to murderers to the anti-wizard resistance members who sometimes behaved more like terrorists than anything else. But there was no criminal scarier than the Wicked Witch of the West. Her powers were unprecedented. Her sorcery skills enabled her to take on and defeat many soldiers at a time. She was evil, destroying villages and taking lives without blinking an eye. She was mad and unpredictable, burning an Ozian barrack one day, destroying the hideout of a resistance party the next and then killing a group of Animals after that. She was everywhere, her ability to traverse vast distances with the aid of that flying broom allowed her to reach all corners of Oz easily. She struck at all hours and without warning, striking fear into everyone.

Fiyero knew that he was not the only one who wanted to find the Witch. There were many others who had the same goal as him. Some of them wanted to bring her to justice, to make her pay for the crimes that she had committed. Others were attracted by the rewards that were promised by The Wizard. There were also those who wanted the fame that would come with the capture of the most notorious criminal in recent Ozian history. He never thought of which category he fell into. He did not need a reason to justify his actions. He just wanted to find her, to put an end to his search that had begun so many years ago.

He thought of his encounter with the Witch again. Something bugged him. The way she looked at him, the way her shoulder slumped as if in defeat. She did not seem like someone who would give up so easily, just because there was a gun pointing at her.

She had moved her lips, wanting to say something, but no sound had come out.

It was only then that he realized what was the word that she was trying to say.

The word was Fiyero.

She was trying to call his name.

"Fiyero?"

He turned around. Glinda was at the door.

"Yes?"

Her eyes darted to the map of the Oz behind him, and she gave him a smile as she came into the room.

"Nothing, Dearest. I'm here to remind you to leave on time today. You need to freshen up before we meet my parents for dinner. You didn't forget, did you?"

Oz, he had totally forgotten about the appointment.

"Of course not," he he replied confidently. "I'll pick you up at seven?"

"That will be great, Dear," his fiancée replied as she lightly brushed her fingers across the lapel of his uniform. "If you want you can even wear your uniform."

"Wear this to a restaurant? Am I supposed to intimidate the waiters or your parents?" He rolled his eyes.

"Don't!" She chided him.

Fiyero gave a nervous laugh. Glinda was never angry with him. "Don't what?"

"Nothing, Dear," she answered quickly, her voice sweet once again. "Just don't roll your eyes. It's … it's unbecoming." She bit her lower lip and then tried to smile again. "Remember, seven," she reminded him again as she left his office, leaving behind the scent of Gillikinese Rose.

Fiyero only reached her place at seven-thirty. The Wizard had given Glinda a large suite that was converted into a small apartment for her. He knocked on her door and when there was no reply, tried the door. It was not locked. He shook his head; she never had a good grasp on security.

The light in her bedroom was on, and when he approached, he noticed that she was in bed, her back to him.

"Glinda?"

She sat up. She had changed into a V-neck pastel yellow simple dress (simple according to the blonde's definition) with stitched sequin flowers at the sides of the bodice and on the skirt. On her neck was a diamond necklace, with a matching bracelet on her wrist. But Fiyero was not drawn to the beautiful dress nor the accessories. His eyes went to her hands. She was clutching something small to her chest. And then he noticed that her makeup was ruined.

She had been crying.

"Glinda?" Fiyero approached her. "What's the matter? Is everything okay?"

Glinda turned her back to him and slipped the item into a drawer on the other side of the bed.

"Of course Dear," she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, smudging the makeup further. "I'm fine. There's something in my eyes. Just give me ten minutes to touch up," she replied.

They reached the restaurant almost an hour late and her parents were waiting. There was a sour look on her father's face as he twirled an empty wine glass between his fingers.

Their faces lit up, however, the moment they saw their precious daughter.

"Popsicle!" Glinda hugged her father first.

"Galinda my precious," her father said laughingly as she gave him a kiss on his cheek. Her parents had never gotten used to calling her Glinda. "You are getting more and more beautiful!" Glinda giggled.

"Momsey." Her mother was next.

"My dearest baby," Larena Upland said.

"Mr Tiggular." Highmuster Arduenna shook the hand of his future son-in-law.

"Call me Fiyero. And good evening, Sir," Fiyero said before he kissed the hand of Glinda's mother. "Good evening, Madame. Sorry we are late. I was held up by work."

"He's always so obsessed with his work." Glinda giggled again as she gave him a peck on his cheek before she sat on the chair that he had pulled out for her.

The waiters began to serve the food. Apparently, the Uplands had ordered for all of them while waiting.

Glinda's mother talked about how they had spent their afternoon; she had gone on a shopping spree the moment they reached the Emerald City.

"I think it will be more prudent if you come and visit us the next round," her father told her with a wink.

Fiyero doubted so.

"I'm sorry that we missed the engagement party," Glinda's father added. "It came at such a short notice we are unable to get our train tickets. What is this world coming into, when it is so difficult to even get a train ticket?" He raised his hands in the air.

Fiyero felt that he had to say something, even though he suspected that the Uplands were just unwilling to travel second class. "We're sorry for the last minute notice, Sir."

"You didn't get my precious daughter pregnant, did you?"

"Popsicle!" Glinda turned red.

Fiyero was glad that they were in a private room.

"No Sir. I respect your daughter. I will never do anything against her will."

Glinda's father laughed heartily and slapped his thigh with his hand. "I never say it is against her will. You are a handsome young man and my daughter is a beautiful young lady. Things do happen when passions run high."

"Popsicle!" Glinda's hands went to her face.

Her father continued. "Why, we all know of his scandalicious reputation!"

Larena placed a hand on her husband's arm. "I think you have a drop too much, Dear."

She was expecting her husband to protest, but to her surprise, he patted her hand lovingly before answering.

"Maybe I do."

His wife heaved an audible sigh of relief.

"Now, tell me, young man. I know that you love my daughter. But how much do you love her?"

**A/N So have I dropped enough hints in this chapter? ;)**

**A/N2 Took a line from Phantom's "All I ask of You" for Glinda's dialogue as I think that is the kind of thing that she will say. Thanks to Katherine the Fabulous for reminding me!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**A/N Thank you to Katherine the Fabulous for pointing out that I had forgotten to credit Phantom of the Opera for using a line from the song "All I Ask of You". I have taken a line from that beautiful song for Glinda's dialogue in the previous chapter.**

**Apologies to those who are hoping for weekly updates. While I have completed the whole story, there is still a lot of editing and amendments to do, and sometimes it is kind of difficult to carve out 'me' time for writing.**

The weather in Munchkinland was never predictable (though some would say that they predicted that it would not be predictable). Hot, sunny mornings sometimes turned into cold, rainy afternoons. Much anticipated rain clouds would, more often than not, scattered a few drops of rain before dissipating. Sometimes what looked like a light drizzle lasted for days and caused rivers to overflow their banks. The usually mild winter could bring on a cold frost overnight and killed cattle and plants. And whenever it did not rain for a few weeks, the farmers would worry that it was another drought like the last one which lasted for years and nearly caused some isolated villages to explore cannibalism.

It was not a suitable place for farming but Munchkinland had been an agricultural state for decades, providing food to the rest of Oz, even though it was not the best place to do so, climate- and terrain-wise. But old habits die hard, and the Munchkinlanders toiled on their farms year after year, generation after generation.

It was early morning when a lone figure walked up a narrow, cobbled pathway that led to a simple house with a yellow domed roof. The ride that he had hitched had dropped him off a couple of miles away and he had walked the rest of the way. The man was simply dressed in a brown cotton shirt opened at the neck with its sleeves rolled up (the sun was blazing even though it was still early in the morning). His pants used to dark blue, but had now faded and were frayed at the legs. He carried a small bag for his personal items and another bigger bag filled with gifts. The clothes and bags were well-used and nondescript. Still, all it took was one glance to know that he was not from this region – his height, his foreign features, the diamond tattoos all over his skin and the way he walked - the grace that was still there despite the years of military training.

The man stopped in front of the door and knocked. Inside, he could hear the sounds of children shouting and running as a woman tried to make herself heard over the din. A typical day in the household. He smiled to himself.

The door opened slightly and a familiar face appeared, holding a plate of bread.

The smile that was always on the Munchkinlander's face faded when he saw who it was.

"Fiyero?" He said his name nervously. "What are you doing here?"

"I need a break from the Emerald City," the Arjiki confessed.

Boq laughed uneasily. That was always his excuse. Fiyero had been coming to Boq's farm for short stays once or twice a year just to get away from Emerald City and her politics. And Boq and Milla always welcomed him with open arms. Milla was more of Glinda's friend than his when they were in Shiz, but the Milla who was married to Boq was no longer the giggling, fashion-conscious schoolgirl from Gillikin. Glinda only came once, and then never again, claiming that it was inconvenient as the only place to sleep was the attic. The small space was used partially as a storeroom but doubled up as a guest room whenever anyone visited. There was no wardrobe to hang her silk dresses, no vanity table for her to put on her makeup in the morning and no bath tub for a luxurious soak. Fiyero suspected that there was another reason - that Glinda simply could not face the new Milla. But he had no idea if Glinda was uncomfortable with a Milla without the pretty clothes and mindless gossip, or if she was unable to face up to the fact that Milla was happy with someone who was deemed as an unconventional choice for a husband for a middle-class Gillikinese (in addition, someone who was previously interested in the blonde when they were in Shiz).

"Am I disturbing something?" he asked, sensing his friend's unease. There was once when he had turned up and Milla was in labour. Boq did not turn him away, and he was there to witness the happiness on everyone's face when Clarinda, their third child, was born. A celebration followed and it lasted for days. Fiyero thoroughly enjoyed the hospitality of Boq and his extended family on that occasion, but it was embarrassing nonetheless.

Boq was about to reply when Fiyero heard Milla's voice.

"Who's that?"

Boq turned behind the door and Fiyero could hear the couple conferring with each other before the door opened wide and Milla gave Fiyero a bear hug, strong for someone her size. She was a petite Gillikinese but still she was taller than her husband. And she was pregnant again.

"Number four?" He pretended to lose track of the number of children she had.

"Five," she said proudly as she soothed the dress across her swollen belly. Boq had once joked that Milla was only happy when she was pregnant or when there was a baby suckling at her breasts. Fiyero thought that perhaps that was why he was always getting her pregnant. There was a glister of sweat on her forehead, but the pregnancy glow was unmistakable.

"Children! Guess who's here?"

Fiyero was immediately swarmed by a group of children who knocked him to the ground. One of them gave him a wet sloppy kiss. Another child tried to pull him up at the same time that a third child tried to pull him down. And somewhere, another pair of hands was trying to relieve him of his bags, knowing that the gifts were inside. The children tried to get his attention, each of them trying to shout something into his ears, trying to outshout one another.

Fiyero laughed hard as he tried to get up, but he gave up when Boq's eldest son wrestled him to the ground and lifted his hand up with a triumphant shout.

It took some time before Boq and Milla managed to get their children off him.

The three older children, Yellowgage, Rikla and Clarinda moved to a corner of the room with his bags. Little Boq tottered after them, still too young to understand the significance of the bags, but old enough to understand that there was something exciting brewing from that corner. Clarinda pulled him into the circle that they had formed. Rikla opened up the smaller bag and announced "Clothes!" with a scrunching of her nose before the three older children all dived for the bigger bag. They took out the presents and spent the next ten minutes tearing the gift wrappers. Fiyero had bought about thirty gifts in total, a mixture of toys, books and clothes, not knowing what the children liked, but they always seemed to like whatever he bought. Squeals of delight filled the air when the presents were revealed one by one.

There was a toy horse that Fiyero had bought, a wooden horse that was painted green (like many of the toys that were sold in the Emerald City), with its mane and tail made of genuine horse hair. Both Yellowgage and Clarinda saw the toy at the same time and fought over it. Yellowgage held onto the horse's head and Clarinda, not wanting to be outdone, pulled at the tail. The ending was predictable. The tail detached from the body, and Clarinda wailed. Yellowgage moved on to another toy. Milla went over to comfort her daughter, pulling the girl to her bosom as she admonished her son for not giving in to his sister. Yellowgage passed Clarinda another toy as a peace offering, and the two were friends again.

"You're spoiling them," Boq told him good naturedly as he poured him a drink and took a bread from the plate that he was holding when he opened the door.

"No, it's alright. It's your breakfast." Fiyero waved the food away. He knew that Boq woke up every day before sunrise to work on the farm, but he would come back to join his children when they woke up for their breakfast.

"No, it's for…" he cast a glance at his wife.

"It's leftover from breakfast," Milla explained. "We are about to put it away."

Fiyero thanked them for his second breakfast.

"So how's Emerald City?"

Fiyero updated the Munchkinlander on the latest happenings. Emerald City was always 'under construction'. Old buildings were torn down, trees were cleared and grass fields were paved over so that more buildings could be built. Several government buildings that were painted one year ago were repainted again, the reason given was that the faded colour was no longer the correct shade of green. New laws were passed, controls tightened and more bureaucracy and policies were announced. Old traditions were buried, and new holidays proposed. This year's celebration for the Wizard's birthday was the 'grandest ever', but then that had been the case every year.

"Always changing, but it seems like nothing has changed," Boq commented, summing up Fiyero's sentiments in a sentence. The prince nodded.

"I think there is something that you forget to tell us, Fiyero," Milla said, her eyes twinkling as she wiped her hands on the apron tied around her ballooning waistline before she sat down.

An image flashed in his mind. A woman. Green, black and willowy. The expression on her face when she saw the face of the person who had shot her.

"So when do you intend to tell us that you and Glinda finally got engaged? When's the wedding?" Milla teased, breaking into his thoughts.

Boq chuckled.

Fiyero took a long sip from his mug, and he had a grim smile on his face when he finally spoke.

"Well, actually that is the reason why I am here. I… we need some time apart."

"What happened?" She pulled her chair closer to the table. Glinda might not visit anymore, but Milla still considered her as a close friend and was always trying to get the latest news about her.

"The engagement is kind-of off."

_He knew he was in trouble the moment the words left his mouth._

"_Very much, Sir."_

_The older man simply leaned back and smiled. "That's good."_

_But Fiyero had seen the looks on the ladies' faces and he knew that it was not good._

_He should have sworn that he love her so much he would go to the end of the world for her or jump down from highest mountain, but he did not. Instead he had given a boring, unoriginal answer, totally unworthy of Glinda. And he had hesitated before replying. _

She had initiated it. She had applied for leave and would go back to Pertha Hills with her parents.

The time apart would do them do, give them time to think, she had said monotonously, as if reciting from a script. She did not even look at his face, choosing instead to look at her manicured fingernails. He noticed that she was still wearing the engagement ring. He wondered how much of her decision was influenced by her parents.

Fiyero had protested of course. There was even a slight ache in his heart when she had mentioned it. They had been together for so long. Both their jobs required them to travel sometimes, but he knew that this time round there could be a change when she returned. The endearment 'Dear' might not apply to him anymore. She might turn up at the next party with another date, and spent the whole night dancing with another man instead of with him. She would not be there to help him navigate his way around a crowded ballroom and to fill up any lull in the conversations. But there was also relief. Relief that he did not show on his face until she had left the room.

But something came up at the last minute that demanded her attention, and her trip was delayed. Her parents left without her. Fiyero decided that he should pay Boq a visit. She did not bother to hide her relief.

Boq updated Fiyero about the farm since he had last visited. The Munchkinlander had built a pipe from a nearby river to irrigate his crops, and was planning to extend the pipe to a few more plots of land. A disease had spread through the area three months ago, killing a few of his cows, and many from his neighbours' farms. Fiyero listened with interest. Whenever he was here he would try to make himself useful and helped around the farm and the house. There was even once when he camped overnight with the two older kids in the nearby forest and taught them basic survival skills (he wondered how much they remembered though). There was a deep sense of satisfaction when he completed a task on the farm, something that was different from the sense of achievement that he felt when he accomplished something at work, but it was satisfactory nonetheless. There were times when he looked at Boq and the simple but happy life that he led and wondered if such a life was for him. But the prince knew better. His father, the chieftain of the Arjiki tribe, was still strong and healthy, but as his only son and heir, he had an obligation to the Arjikis that he had to fulfill sooner or later.

"Oh, by the way, do stay away from the shed, the one near to the river," Milla told him.

"Yes," Boq bobbed his head eagerly. "Don't go there. The roof is in danger of collapsing."

"I can fix it," Fiyero offered.

Milla shook her head. "I'm afraid not. Boq is still working on the measurements for the roof. Anyway, there's no hurry. We hardly use that place. Just stay away from it. We will never forgive ourselves if you got hurt when you are with us."

Boq brought Fiyero around the farm after breakfast. Like all farmers, he practised crop rotation and so not all the fields were in use at the same time. He brought Fiyero to the chicken shed, making the captain start his break with the easy task of collecting eggs from the chickens. The friends chitchatted as they worked together, the camaraderie between them undiminished by the months that they were apart. They never talked about Shiz anymore though. Their undergraduate lives was so different from the lives that they led now that it was more like a dream than a part of their past.

The sun was setting by the time the two friends came back from outside. Dinner was ready and they had a simple dinner before they retired for the night. The children wanted to join Fiyero in the attic but Boq stopped them. Not today, he told the children. But that did not stop Yellowgage and Rikla from sneaking up after the lights were off, and they asked Fiyero to tell them bedtime stories of glorious fighting and brave deeds.

Fiyero exercised every morning when he was in the Emerald City, and he tried to keep to his routine even when he was out of the city. He woke up at the same time as Boq, when Milla and the children were still asleep. The duo agreed to meet up after his exercise. Fiyero had been here many times and knew his way around the farm.

On that day, he jogged around the perimeter of Boq's farm before branching out towards the nearby river. By the river, he chose a clear spot and did his sit-ups, followed by some pull-ups using one of the tree branches that hung low to the ground.

The dark clouds came in when he was doing his cooling down exercises and it started to rain even before he was done. It would not have bothered him if it was a light drizzle, but the rain started off heavy and intensified quickly. Flashes of lightning cut across the sky and he knew that it was dangerous to remain in the open.

Fiyero scanned the surroundings. There was nothing nearby but trees, until he saw the shed that Milla had warned him about. But that was the only shelter within sight and Fiyero ran towards the building, the mud splashing all over his boots and pants.

Like most of the houses in Munchkinland, there was no lock on the shed door, just a simple latch to secure the door. Fiyero pushed open the door just as another bolt of lightning flashed across the sky. He stepped into the room, glad that he was out of the rain at last.

He wiped the rainwater off his limbs and took off his shirt, wringing the fabric to squeeze out the excess water. He looked at the shed. Boq had mentioned that the roof was going to collapse, but the roof seemed secure to his inexperienced eye. There was also no leak that he could detect.

He looked around the dark room. The shed was used as a storeroom. There were a few louvre windows, the slats angled in such a way that rain could not get in. A wooden ramp led to a hayloft that ran along the length of the shed two-third up the wall. There was a cart with a broken wheel at a corner, a toolbox with a box of nails next to it, some wooden planks and a large bundle of firewood. A few rattan baskets were stacked together, one of them filled with old baby clothes that no doubt would be used again very soon. Fiyero took the largest item from the pile and wiped himself dry, silently apologising to Milla's unborn baby. There was an old chest of drawers, cracking at the sides, with a box of fine china cutlery, a layer of dust on top. It was most likely a wedding gift from years ago. It could be from Glinda, since he could not remember what she had bought, or maybe not, as neither the box nor the picture on the box was pink.

He went up the ramp, listening to the creaks that accompanied every step, aware that the ramp (instead of the roof) could give way any moment.

The hayloft was smaller than he expected. Both sides of the loft were lined with square bales of hay, stacked side by side. A large, thick blanket was draped over the last two bales. There was a plate of bread on the floor, the half-eaten bread looking very much like the ones they had for breakfast yesterday. Perhaps the children had used this shed as a play area. He could imagine them telling one another ghost stories under the sheet, or pretending that they were on an adventure, in a ship bound for uncharted lands. Or maybe it was just a place to hide from Boq or Milla when one of the kids got into trouble, until the said parent cooled down or hunger drove the child home.

He pulled away the blanket, expecting to find one of the children hiding in the narrow space between the two bales of hay, a nest of mice secretly kept as pets, perhaps a few children storybooks or a stash of cookies.

He certainly did not expect to find the Wicked Witch of the West.

**A/N Description of Boq's house was extracted from the book. In the book, Milla had more than five children, and three of their names were mentioned - Rikla, Yellowgage and Clarinda. The name Little Boq comes from my very limited imagination.**

**A/N The part below is actually from Chapter 5. But I would like to share this earlier so that this chapter does not end with a cliffy =) This also means that chapter 5 will be about 400 words shorter ;P**

His hand moved instinctively to his hip, reaching for the gun that was not there, but his breath caught in his throat even before his fingers closed on nothing.

The Witch's eyes were closed, her head tilted to the side. Her hands hanged slack, lifeless.

She was dead.

His hand froze.

Fiyero kneeled down next to the Witch, his hand reaching out to her. He touched her neck with his fingertips, searching for a pulse. He could not detect it, but he knew by then that she was not dead. Her skin was not cold, but hot, too hot in fact. He tried again, shifting his fingers slightly. He found her pulse after a while, faint and barely there. The Witch inhaled softly and then exhale.

It was only then that he realised that the rain had stopped, as sudden as it had begun. He could no longer hear the pelting of the raindrops against the windows. In the silence that followed, the captain realised that he could no longer hear the sound of her breathing.

His hand brushed against her forehead. Her eyes remained close. She did not even stir. He pressed his hand against her cheek and held his breath until she took hers. The wildest thought came into his mind – she needed his touch to trigger the most fundamental survival instinct in her; she had forgotten how to breathe until he came along.

The next thing he knew, he had folded the blanket twice and wrapped the Witch with it, covering her from head to toe but leaving her face exposed. A series of alarm bells went off in his head, but he ignored them as he pulled her close to him and wrapped an arm around her, his heart pounding, the thick blanket between them.

He tucked her head under his chin and pressed his other hand against her bare cheek. The prince took a deep breath, willing her to do the same, trying to pull her back from wherever she was drifting off to.

Breathe, dammit. Breathe.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**A/N I usually don't post at this timing (because it is really agonising to wait for the rest of the world to wake up and read and review) but this chapter was ready 24 hours ago and I was unable to post due to ff net's server error.**

He knew what a sight he was.

He knew how it looked like.

The Captain of the Guards, all blue diamonds on rich ochre, carrying a figure covered totally with a plain, grey blanket. Under the sheet, her hot, green face rested in the crook of his neck, a hand on his chest, her breathing shallow. She lay motionless in his arms, unresponsive to the bumps as he manoeuvered his way across the fields. He would not know if she was still alive if not for the sporadic shallow breaths and the way the heat rolled off her in waves.

The rain had stopped, but everything and everywhere was wet. The ground squished wherever he trod, raindrops glided off the leaves at the slightest tremble. He chose his path carefully as he made his way back to the house, favouring solid rocks over muddy ground, staying away from the trees. He had no idea how much harm a single drop of water could do or how deadly a splash could be.

Milla's face paled when she opened the door and saw who it was. She did not need to look under the blanket to know who he was carrying.

"She's burning up," he told her, his voice cracking slightly. The rational part of his mind wondered why.

"Children!" Milla turned around and shooed her children in the opposite direction, towards the back door. "Go out and play!"

"But it's wet outside!" Clarinda whined.

"Just go!" Milla barked and the children nearly tripped over their own feet in their mad rush to get out, not understanding why their mother had suddenly behaved so illogically. She had never let them played outside after the rain. Washing muddy clothes was never one of Milla's favourite chores.

Fiyero went up to the attic and Milla hovered behind him as he placed the Witch gently on the bed. He turned and looked at her.

"Do you have anything for open wounds?" he asked as he carefully peeled back the black skirt that was sticking to the Witch's leg, revealing a sticky, reddish wound on her calf. The palm-size wound stood out, even against her green skin. It was swollen, angry and crusted with pus.

Milla gulped and nodded before she rushed off to get the medication.

It was Boq who came back with a tray filled with supplies, although Fiyero did not realise that his friend had returned. Perhaps the sight of his children wrestling in the mud had brought him running. Fiyero looked at the items laid out on the tray. A ceramic container of salve, a roll of gauze, cotton wool, tape, a pair of scissors and a bowl filled with a clear colourless liquid.

Fiyero eyed the last item suspiciously, even though he could smell the acrid smell emanating from the bowl.

"It's… it's vinegar wa-water. It won't huuurt her," the Munchkinlander stammered.

He tried to clean the wound as best as he could. The bullet had not penetrated her flesh deeply; he had shot her with precision, to stop her from harming the Wizard. It was a tiny wound, awfully painful at the onset, but it should have recovered by now. But here it was, deeper and wider than before and badly infected. The result of negligence, lack of nutrients, inadequate rest and Oz knew what else.

The Witch hissed in her fever-induced sleep as he wiped the wound with the vinegar water and he paused, waiting for the pain on her face to go away before he continued, gentler than before. He applied a layer of salve on the wound before he covered it with a piece of gauze. He did not know what was in the salve. It was most probably some homemade Munchkinlander remedy, but he knew Boq well enough to know that his university friend would never harm anyone, not even a witch.

He looked up when he was done and saw Boq staring nervously at him. The Munchkinlander looked away and tried to look busy by putting the things back onto the tray, his hands trembling. It was only then that Fiyero remembered. He had just found the Wicked Witch of the West on his farm. Harbouring a criminal was a crime punishable by imprisonment, and he was sure that Boq knew about that. But Fiyero had other things to worry about.

"When was the last time she ate anything?"

Boq looked up with a start, and he knew; they had stopped giving her food because he was here. It would arouse his suspicion if they went to the shed several times a day with food and medical supplies. And so the couple had concocted the story that the shed was in danger of collapsing, to keep him and everyone else away. There was no way they could let him find out that the Wicked Witch of the West was there, because he was a Captain of the Gale Force and it was his job to arrest her.

Boq mumbled something about food and he quickly left the room. The Munchkin nearly tumbled down the stairs in his haste to get away.

The rain had stopped and the sky was still grey, but the skylight at the rooftop let in some natural light, and Fiyero finally had a chance to take a good look at the Witch since he found her at the hayloft. Her eyes were shut, with a frown that seemed permanent on her long, stern face. She was tall for a woman, but thin like a girl. The black dress that she wore was most probably the same dress that she had worn when he first saw her in the Throne Room. It had a high collar with long sleeves, the skirt reaching her ankles. The fabric was fraying at the edges, long black threads almost the same colour as her hair. The dress was patched in so many places that it was no longer a black plain dress, but one made up of different fabrics in other dark colours and an occasional bright one. There was even a sudden flush of pink on the bodice. The dress clung to her frame, showing him how thin she was underneath. Fiyero might not have any sister, but he had dated (and bedded) enough women to know the number of layers that they wore underneath their dresses. The woman in front of him had no such luxury. He covered her with the blanket that he had used the night before and paused when he tucked her hand under it, surprised by his own tenderness. He turned away from the Witch, and tried to distract himself by searching through his bag for some clean and dry clothes.

He had just finished changing when Milla came up, a small bowl and a baby spoon in her hand.

"Soup," she said. "Vegetable soup," she added, as she showed him the bits of carrots floating inside, as if she knew something that he did not.

Fiyero propped the Witch up before he filled the spoon with soup and pressed it against her lips. For a moment, he thought that she would not take it, but her lips opened slightly with his probing and he tipped it in. He continued to feed her, one small spoon after another, pausing in between so that she would not choke. Milla sat facing Fiyero, on the other side of the Witch, a handkerchief in her hand, ready to wipe off any liquid that leaked from her mouth. The bowl was less than a quarter full, but still it took a long time before it was empty.

Milla left with the dirty cutlery, but not before reminding Fiyero that lunch would be ready soon.

"We'll have vegetable soup for lunch," she said, lifting the bowl. "I'll tell the kids that they are not allowed to come up," she added. The kids would blabber to their friends about the green girl in the attic, and that was one thing that none of them wanted.

Fiyero thanked her with a nod.

He looked at the sleeping figure in his arms. The Wicked Witch of the West. The terror of Oz. Helpless like a newborn perhaps for the first time in her life. She would most probably be too weak to protect herself even if she opened her eyes that very moment. She was totally defenceless. Fiyero knew that it was a good time to call in reinforcements, to bring her back to the Emerald City and put her on trial. The lines on her forehead seemed to deepen, as if she could hear his thoughts. Fiyero knew that he should lower the Witch onto the bed, but he pulled her closer to him and brushed his fingers across her forehead, trying to ease those troubled lines.

He did not understand why there was an aching pain in his heart.

* * *

The thing about children was that they never did what they were told. They never listened to instructions.

On that first day, they tried to go up to the attic at least ten times, sometimes calling loudly for Uncle Fiyero, sometimes sneakily (or as sneakily as a child could, since their ascent was usually punctuated with giggles and loud whispers). In the end, Boq, under the advice of his wife, pulled a rope across the attic and stringed up a curtain, effectively partitioning the room into two and hiding the bed from plain sight. He then scrambled downstairs again, not daring to meet the Vinkun's eyes. When Fiyero came downstairs, the Munchkinlander talked nervously and nearly choked on his food, until Milla, when the children went out to play, chided him lovingly.

"No one is going to get arrested. Not under my roof," she declared with more pompous than the Wizard. Boq sneaked a glance at Fiyero, whose face remained impassive. But Milla's confidence seemed to ease his fears somehow.

Yellowgage, the boldest among the children, asked Fiyero what was hidden in the attic. There must be something, he reasoned, since the children were now forbidden to go upstairs.

"Is it stolen treasure from the Emerald City?" he asked.

"Is it Glinda the Good?" Clarinda ventured a guess, now that someone else had started the topic. She knew that Glinda the Good was a friend of her parents, but had never seen her before, as she was born after Glinda's one and only visit. However, she had seen photos of Glinda the Good in the newspapers, photos of a petite, smiling blonde with immaculate makeup and who never seemed to wear the same gown twice. The little girl had taken an instant liking to her (or rather, the photos), so much so that she had declared that she wanted to be Clarinda the Good when she grew up.

"Is it an Animal?" Rikla, who understood the Animal Banns, asked.

"Is it Another Woman?" Her eyes grew wide as she remembered some gossip that she had overheard about the baker the last time she went to the market with Milla.

Milla hushed her then and threatened her own children.

"Anyone who tries to go up again will be severely punished," she told them as she looked around the room for a suitable form of punishment. "I think the pots are in need of a good scrub."

The children looked at the dirty pots in horror and scattered.

Fiyero still went to the fields with Boq. He helped with the extension of the new irrigation system. He checked on the crops and milked the cows. They talked to each other like before, but there were more silent moments now, times when suddenly the two men were at a sudden loss of words. The appearance of the Witch seemed to bring them closer with her secret, yet pushed them apart. The evenings were slightly better. With the children around, there was no need to think of a topic. The children always dominated the conversations; they always had something to say. Or they would demand stories from Fiyero, and the Arjiki would entertain them with embellished stories of the Arjiki warriors or the people living in the Emerald City.

He went upstairs and checked on the Witch frequently. He checked on her breathing and her fever and cleaned her wound. He adjusted the blanket twenty times a day and made sure that she was comfortable. He had an unspoken arrangement with Milla. She would set aside a small serving of her cooking when she was done and Fiyero would find an opportunity to bring up the food when the children were not looking and fed her. He looked at the resting figure in the attic, a hundred questions on his mind, none of them with an answer.

She opened her eyes a few times, but they always closed before she could fully take in her surroundings. Her wound healed faster now that it was being tended to. Her fever receded, her skin became less red and her breathing steadier.

Milla made some hot chocolate one day and Fiyero brought a cup to the attic. He fed the Witch, and wiped her lips gently with a handkerchief when that was done. Her lips were grey and cracked at several places. He supposed she was born with grey lips and it was not a manifestation of some underlying illness.

"You're not going to die of something else, are you?" he jested lightly, more to himself than to her.

The woman in his arms stirred and Fiyero pulled her closer instinctively. She opened her eyes slightly, and he thought that she was looking at him with unfocused eyes.

"Fiyero?" she whispered, her voice hoarse, the last syllabus so soft he could not hear it. And her eyes were close again.

He had heard his name called so many times by so many people. His parents called his name lovingly, menacingly (when he got into trouble). His teachers usually spoke his name with disdain. His colleagues would usually call him Tiggular or Captain (or whatever was his title at that time). Friends like Boq said his name with fondness. Girls cooed his name flirtatiously while Glinda always had that possessive tone with her. But the woman's voice was laced with sadness when she called his name, as if he was part of a past that she did not want to remember, as if he had broken her heart, one way or another, over and over again. But he knew that it was not possible. He might not remember every single girl that he had met, but there was no way he could forget her if he had met her before the night at the Throne Room. There was no way he could forget a girl with green skin.

"Who are you?" he asked as he brushed a lock of hair away from her face. But the Witch's eyes remained close, and she did not answer.

He was not there when she regained consciousness.

He was out with Boq. The Munchkinlander had found a breach in the fence around one of the paddocks, and the two friends worked together to get it fixed within the day. They were greeted by a strange sight when they went back to the house in the evening. The children were all seated on their tiny stools, surrounded by pots of different sizes.

"Where's Mommy?" Boq asked.

It was Clarinda who spoke.

"She told us to stay inside." She traced the perimeter formed by the circle of pots with her tiny finger. "Or we'll have no dinner."

"It's the Animal," Rikla explained as she pointed upstairs. The girl believed that her parents had hidden an Animal upstairs, in defiance of the Animal Banns. "It speaks."

Fiyero dashed upstairs without another word. He could hear Boq as the latter tried to catch up, but the Arjiki did not stop for his friend. The makeshift curtain was drawn, and he pulled it aside with such force that he nearly ripped the fabric. What he saw stopped him in his tracks.

The Witch sat on the floor, her back against the wall. She was feeding herself with a spoon. Her hand trembled, and the spoon shook precariously, but it did not drop. Milla was next to her, a bowl held under the shaking spoon to catch any spillage.

"You're awake!" Boq cried with delight as he rushed over and hugged her.

The Witch stiffened and dropped the spoon into the bowl, surprised at the sudden gesture, but she quickly recovered and gave Boq a wan smile.

Fiyero took a step forward, wanting to cross the room and pulled her into his arms, but caught himself at the last minute. He leaned against the wall and folded his arms, and crossed his ankles for good measure

"You're awake," he said, his voice stolid, a huge contrast to the affectionate tone in Boq's voice when he said the very same words, trying to affect an air of indifference. The Witch's smile faded.

The Munchkin noticed her reaction.

"He saved you," he tried to explain to her. "He found you in the shed. You were running a high fever and he brought you back. He has been taking care of you for the past few days."

The Witch nodded slightly to acknowledge Boq's statement but did not say anything.

Fiyero stayed where he was, away from them. Milla and Boq sat on opposite sides of the Witch, the wide grins on their faces unmistakable. The couple said a word here and there. Boq cracked a joke about the Witch having to put up with Milla's terrible cooking. Milla tried to swipe him on his arm but missed. He laughed at her terrible aim. She pretended to be annoyed with his antics and whispered something to the Witch, and got a tiny smile in return. Boq laughed heartily when the Witch finished the soup, as if she was one of his children who had said something clever. The prince felt like a stranger, an intruder, a voyeur looking at a charmed circle of friends.

Milla looked at Fiyero and beckoned to Boq. The couple left quietly, leaving only him and the Witch in the attic.

The Witch leaned against the louvre window and looked out of the slats at the ground below. Fiyero wished that she would look at him. He wanted her to say something, to give him a faint smile like the one that she had given Milla.

"They like you." He said instead.

She did not reply.

He crossed the room and stood in front of her, his arms folded.

"They like you enough to risk their lives for you," he added when there was still no response.

The Witch pursed her lips and continued to look out of the window. It was a long time before she spoke.

"Really?" He was not surprised to hear the sarcasm in her voice. "Who in their right mind will like a Witch? They fear me, Captain. And I despise them. They're just pawns, tools that can be easily disposed. I hold them against their will. I threaten to turn their children into scarecrows if they do not provide me with food and shelter."

"They don't look as if they are being held against their will," he stated plainly as he sat down in front of her.

"I cast a spell on them. I turned them into brainless, giggling fans of the Wicked Witch. I control their minds. They are nothing but mindless puppets, programmed to do my bidding."

"You're not a convincing liar," he told her.

She finally looked at him.

"Really? Are you an expert in differentiating truths and lies? You with your extensive experience dealing with the Wizard and his minions?" She replied mockingly.

"Do it then. Turn me into another brainless, giggling fan of yours. I can't wait." He challenged her with a tight smile.

She turned away, a slight tug at the corner of her mouth.

"I just may."

She let out a sigh after a while and looked at him again. There was a note of finality in her voice when she spoke again.

"Enough of these pleasantries, Captain. I know what you want. I'll go with you. Just don't … just leave them alone. You don't need more blood on your hands." She clawed at the walls for support as she struggled to stand up. Fiyero followed, eyeing her trembling limbs warily, ready for her. Her legs gave way at the last moment and he grabbed her by her arms, breaking her fall.

She jerked her arms away as if his touch burned, her eyes wide, and slammed her shoulder against the wall before she slid onto the floor clumsily.

"You should rest," Fiyero told her, trying not to show the sting that he felt.

A mixture of hope and disbelief flooded her face, and the Witch looked away.

"You have not fully recovered. I will need to do a lot of explanation if anything happens to you on the way back."

"And when I am stronger?" she asked after a while, her voice softer.

He gave a textbook answer.

"I'll bring you back to the Emerald City when you're better. Most probably you will go to Southstairs, but I will ensure that you will have a fair trial."

The Witch looked down at her leg as her hand strayed to where the wound was. She gave a bitter laugh.

"A temporary reprieve thanks to you. How lucky I am." But she sounded as if she felt anything but lucky.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

He tied her up.

He bound her hands and legs to prevent her from escaping when he was not in the house. It was overkill, he knew. She was so weak she was unable to stand without support, but she had escaped once while she was under his watch, and he did not intend to make the same mistake twice. Milla's face turned white when he started to wind the ropes around the pair of green wrists and Boq made strangling noises. The Witch only looked back at him defiantly, with not a single trace of fear in her eyes. But he did not want to bring her back to Emerald City in her weakened state of health. Southstairs would kill her before the trial started (if there was one, despite what he said about getting her a fair trial).

It lasted less than two hours before he left a startled Boq at the fields and stomped back to the house. He marched upstairs, ignoring the children as they called him to join them in some game that they were playing. He had a small Arjiki dagger that he always kept with him, a gift from his father when he came of age, and he whipped it out the moment he reached the top of the stairs. She did not even recoil at the sight of the weapon. He grabbed her ankle and cut the rope, pretending not to notice the way she flinched away from his touch, as if his bare hand was more capable of slicing her skin than the blade. He rubbed the skin around her ankles to get the blood flowing before he did the same for the rope around her wrists. He had always been strict with his prisoners, regardless of their age, gender and looks. He had no idea why he was making an exception for her. An exception to one of the top terrorists in Oz. Maybe she had really cast a spell on him, turning him softhearted. He touched her forehead with the back of his hand, checking if her fever had recurred in the short period when she was tied up, all the while cursing himself for being so cruel, for being so kind.

"Are you always so nice to your prisoners, Captain?" she asked, her tone faintly mocking.

He did not know how to answer.

She wanted to dress her wound herself but it was at the side of her calf, towards the back, and she could not reach it without twisting her leg at an odd angle. So Fiyero continue to re-dress the wound twice a day despite her protests, keeping the supplies downstairs so that she could not do it herself. He told himself that he was doing the best that he could to speed up her recovery. He was in a farm (though owned by a friend) with the Wicked Witch, with a rooming arrangement that was less than satisfactory. There were a hundred ways things could go wrong. Her rebel friends could come to her rescue or she could run away. She might even harm Boq and his family, though somehow deep down he knew that she would not do that. But he could not bear to tie her up again.

He tried to question her on the day she appeared in the Throne Room, on her motive and her accomplice who had jumped out of the window just as he entered the room. She simply clammed up, and nothing that he said could make her reveal her secrets. And the evil eyes that Boq and Milla gave him whenever they caught him interrogating her left him unsettled. They made him felt as if he was a playground bully and they have caught him pushing a sweet little girl to the ground.

"You know my name." He broached the topic one day.

She looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. She was seated on the floor, her knees bent, but the difference in their heights did not seem to bother her at all.

"You called me by my name, when you were sick."

The corners of her lips twitched. Oz, she could be so expressive when she chose to.

"You'd rather I don't." She sounded amused.

"I don't mean that," He stuffed his hands in his pockets and took a deep breath. He wondered how much he should say without sounding like an idiot. How much he should reveal without sounding like he was crazy. He looked down, at the space between his feet and hers. "I – "

"I suppose it grates on your ears," she cackled.

"No. I mean – "

"You don't have to be so chivalrous, Captain."

"I'm n– "

She cut him off with a wave of her hand. "I know I'm no nightingale."

He let out an explosive breath. "Don't you ever let anyone else talk?"

She tilted her head and looked at him with utmost seriousness. "Cut off my tongue then."

He could only look back at her, speechless.

She started to walk around the attic when her leg was better, when not every step would send a shot of pain through her leg. That was how Boq and Fiyero found her when they came back from the fields one day. Clarinda told them that the Animal was restless (Rikla had convinced her that their parents were harbouring an Animal upstairs); they had been hearing footsteps from above the whole afternoon. When they went up, they saw her pacing, a tiny grimace on her pale face whenever she put her weight on the healing leg.

"You should rest," Fiyero said. She ignored him.

She only stopped when Boq told her that the children could hear her downstairs.

"Lie down," Fiyero commanded. Surprisingly, she heeded and she lay on her side as he peeled off the gauze to check on her wound, her expression that of an Animal about to be gutted.

"All this walking is not going to speed up your recovery," he commented.

"I don't need your advice." He had never met any girl as stubborn as her.

"I'm just trying to help."

"You can help me by not shooting me in the first place, Captain." And she closed her eyes after giving a dramatic sigh.

Fiyero looked at her and wondered if he should laugh or be angry at the last comment.

"She isn't as evil as they say, you know," Boq whispered after a while.

Fiyero looked at him in surprise. He had not spoken up for her so far. The Munchkin continued, encouraged by the fact that the Captain did not ask him to shut up.

"As a matter of fact, I will not say that she is evil at all. She's smart, the smartest person that I have ever met. She's a good friend. She's absolutely steadfast with her loyalty once you've gained her trust. She totally genuine, unlike some pretentious people we know; what you see is what you get. So what if she is not your typical giggling young lady? What if she does not really conform to the norms, what if she does not believe in everything that the Wizard says? Who does? I'm sure that even you don't. She is just more vocal about it. She is just more passionate in helping the less fortunate. And she is willing to stand up for her beliefs."

"I would like to meet her too," a female voice quipped.

Boq looked at her in surprise. He thought that she had fallen asleep.

"Who are you referring to?" he asked.

The green girl sat up.

"This _wonderful, sparkling_ person that you are talking about."

Boq was peeved.

"Well, if you have been eavesdropping –"

"I wasn't eavesdropping. I was trying very hard to sleep!"

Fiyero chuckled. It was hard to imagine her as a notorious terrorist when she behaved like that. She gave him a menacing glare.

Boq ploughed on.

"You know that I was talking about you. You definitely need more people to speak up for you. It always surprises me how much you are willing to give and not ask for anything in return, how you don't bother to correct people's misconceptions about you. Letting them find out the truth on their own is one thing, but you seem intent in letting everyone thinks the worst of you. Things may be better if you are willing to open your mouth and ask for help. Oz knows how much you need people on your side. You are just being misunderstood, and being used."

"Really? I thought I am a rebel."

"Whether you are a rebel or a loyalist depends on who is in power at the moment."

"I'm rude and sarcastic."

"The sarcasm is your defence. You're just shy and an introvert. You are at a total loss when it comes to socializing and interaction."

"That's rich, coming from you."

"Hey, I ain't so bad!" Boq humph.

"Maybe you're right," she admitted after a while and Boq smiled, thinking that he had won the argument, until she continued. "At least you did not alienate the whole school on her first day and stun the whole class with her uncontrollable sorcery skills!"

"That was an accident! You didn't intend to do it. Right –" Boq turned to a confused Fiyero, and then he closed his mouth.

"Forget it. I'm not getting through to you. I might as well talk to a tree." The Munchkin left the room in a huff.

The two of them shared the attic, sleeping side-by-side, a small gap between them. There was no other room available, besides the shed where he had found her. He let her have the thin mattress while he slept on the floor. He was a soldier and had slept in more uncomfortable places.

He found himself observing her in the dark hours of the night when he could not sleep (she had threatened to claw out his eyes when she caught him looking at her once during the daytime. He was pretty sure that she would not do it though). Her eyes would close and her breathing would slow down, and then there would be some noise – a sheep bleeping, a wolf howling in the nearby forest, or one of the children talking in his or her sleep, and her eyes would pop open, alert. It seemed that she never truly slept. He wondered about the life that she led, always on the run, the sense of danger ever present. The kind of toil it left on her. He did not think that it was the kind of life that anyone would choose willingly.

"Go to sleep," he told her one night when she tossed around, unable to sleep with all the racket that one of Boq's cows made. There was a full moon and the moonlight came in through the skylight. It gave her skin a slight sheen, as if someone had dusted silvery powder on her face, illuminating her sharp features.

"I'll protect you from the cow," he jested. In the distance, the cow mooed mournfully again, protesting its innocence.

She laughed in the semi-darkness, her eyes closed.

"I thought the Gale Force only protect the innocent. I didn't know they protect even the wicked." Her voice was slightly drowsy. She sounded dreamy. He liked it.

"Why do you do it?" he asked after a while.

She did not reply, though he was quite sure she knew what he was talking about.

He waited for a while before he rephrased his question.

"Why does a _wonderful, sparkling_ girl like you give up everything and go against the Wizard?"

She chuckled, her eyes still closed. "There's nothing much to give up, Captain."

Another lull, and he thought that she had finally fallen asleep when she replied without a trace of sarcasm.

"He's not fit to be a ruler."

"Why?"

She opened her eyes. There was nothing sleepy about them.

"He's a liar and a fraudster. He's not wonderful. He just pulled the wool over everyone's eyes."

"That's a harsh thing to say. Everyone lied once in a while." He thought of all the sweet nothings that he had said to the different girls throughout his life.

"He lies every single day. He lies about every single thing. He's not fit to rule. He claims that he cares for the people, but he doesn't give a damn at all. All he wants is power, and blind worship and adulation from the people."

"He's trying."

"You call that trying? I can only see him making one mistake after another, using one lie to cover up another. Look at Boq. Do you know how much he has to pay the treasury every year to use the land? Look at his harvest. He can get a better price if he sells them in the bigger towns. But there are tolls every inch of the way, taxes on the produce, courtesy of the Wizard. Whatever he earns is barely enough for his expenses. And the children. They should be in school, but the nearest school is so far away. Milla is doing the best that she can, but it won't be very long before she cannot teach them anymore. Boq managed to study in Shiz because the whole town chipped in. Do you think they can do that again for his children? And the Animals! 'Animals should be seen and not heard'. That's going back a hundred years! Animals forced to leave their jobs. People and Animals being persecuted for speaking up! The Quadlings forced to evacuate their homes so that the land can be dredged for rubies. And all these while the Wizard is enjoying life in his ivory tower, feasting and entertaining every day while the people suffered."

"No one is persecuted for speaking up," Fiyero told her.

"Really? What about Doctor Dillamond?"

"Doctor Dillamond? That old Goat? What about him?"

"Do you know where he is, Captain?"

"Where is he?"

"You mean you really don't know? My dear, naïve Captain." She cackled and turned away.

* * *

There were only a few things the green girl could do when she was upstairs – eat, sleep or walk. Boq brought up some baby clothes that needed to be patched before the arrival of the new baby but that only kept her occupied for two days. And so she was almost ecstatic when Milla found some old text books in a box under her bed.

She fled to the other side of the attic, the dusty tomes cradled gently in her arms after she had muttered her heartfelt thanks to the Gillikinese. She sat down next to the window and read the first book that she picked up. She poured over the pages as if she had not seen a book in years, a tiny smile on her lips as her eyes moved over the text. Fiyero brought up her lunch and she would not have touched the food if Milla did not threaten to feed the books to the fire.

He looked at her, amused, as she continued to read, oblivious to everything else. She seemed like such a normal girl so long as he stayed away from certain sensitive topics such as the Wizard and politics. She rubbed her eyes occasionally and blinked when she strained her eyes too much. A lock of hair came loose from her plait and fell across her face, and she absentmindedly twirled the hair around her finger and then continued to hold the book, anchoring the lock of hair. Sometimes she would bring the end of that lock to her face and used it to relieve an itch, or to chew on it. Fiyero was quite sure that she had no idea she was doing it. The book bound her to the spot, chaining her more effectively than any rope or chain. She did not even realise that he had been observing her for quite some time.

He sat down next to her.

"You like reading."

She did not hear him. He repeated again. She looked up, surprised, and beamed when she registered his question. The smile took years off her face. He found himself smiling back.

"I love books. There's so much that you can learn by reading. Books are everything. It's sharing of ideas, information about people and places, capturing of history, recording of knowledge to be passed on to the next generation, information that can be disseminated far and wide. You can learn so much from books. It broadens your horizon without you even stepping out of your room. It transports you to another world, another era simply with words," she gushed, her smile widening by the second. "It's Math, Geography, Anthropology, Language, Biology, Poetry, History, Chemistry, Music, Carpentry, Medicine, Physics, anything and everything you want, right here." She pressed her palm on the open page to emphasise her point.

"They always say a picture paints a thousand words, but I'll choose a book over a picture anytime," she added with a laugh, not the usual cackle that she gave but a genuine happy laughter that he had never heard from her. Fiyero never read unless where necessary, but from the way she gushed over it, the way her face lit up when she talked about it, he was almost sold on the idea that books were the most wonderful thing in the world. He wanted to shift closer to her until their knees were touching, and asked her to read from the book so that he could dip his head closer to hers and listen to her low melodic voice.

She closed the book, oblivious to his thoughts, and showed him the title. It was one of Milla's History textbooks when she was studying in Shiz.

"Do you know that this is just one book in a series? Do you remember the time when Doctor Dillamond brought in the whole set and – " she trailed off, the smile on her face faltered when she suddenly realized what she had just said.

"Wait a minute, you were in Doctor Dillamond's class?" He did not expect that. She had mentioned the old Goat, but he thought that she knew him from somewhere, or have heard of his plight from someone. He suspected that she was around his age, but to find out that she was in his History class… Then why did he not remember her? He did not attend every single lesson but he was sure that he would remember if there was a green girl in his class, even if she had only attended one single lesson. He tried to visualise the seating arrangement in his History class. There were ten rows of seats in the lecture room. The students were usually seated at the back, more interested in doing their own things or chatting with their friends than to pay attention to the professor. He went through row by row, face by face, name by name. There was no girl with green skin, no girl with black, straight hair. The first three rows were always empty, nobody liked to sit there. Or was there?

"No." She averted her glance.

"But you were there. You've just mentioned it. Where were you usually seated? Who did you usually sit with?" he asked.

She shook her head, more dismay than denial. "No, I was not there." She closed the book and hugged her knees close to her as she looked out of the window. "I was never there. Never there." And she was distant again.

"When was the last time you cut your hair?" he asked one day when he had stood there for some time watching her redo her braid. It was fascinating; the way her fingers worked quickly as if they had a mind of their own, twisting and twirling the locks to overlap one another to form a braid. That was not his favourite part of the re-braiding process though. There was this moment, when she shook her head gently to loosen the braid and her hair fell across her back. She would always closed her eyes and take a deep breath before she started to redo her braid. She seemed almost relax then, and Fiyero had the strange notion that if he could freeze that moment, if he could capture that mood, he would be able to find out her secrets.

She looked at him. She had been quiet, withdrawn even, since Fiyero found out that she used to study in Shiz. He had tried to find out more, but suddenly her past, like the reason of her appearance in the Throne Room, became a restricted topic; she refused to say anything. The girl looked at the hair in her hand and seemed to take her time deciding if she should entertain his question.

"Long enough," she replied after a while.

"Isn't it kind of difficult to be on the run when you are so busy plaiting your hair?"

She scowled at him. He smirked.

"I don't have the time." Fiyero smiled inwardly. He should have baited her long ago.

"You have the time now."

"Oh yes, you're right." She smacked her forehead with her hand, as if she was stupid not to think of that and started to walk in circles, gesturing wildly with her hands. "Now where's the nearest hairdresser? Do you think I need to make an appointment? Maybe the hairdresser will accept walk-ins. But wait, only after she has screamed and fainted. And only if she does not raise the alarm. Or does Southstairs come with an in-house barber? Do all prisoners get a monthly haircut?"

Fiyero leaned against the wall and let her finish her rant before he grinned at her. He made an offer.

"I can cut it for you if you don't mind."

She stopped pacing. The surprise on her face was evident. And after what seemed like a long while, she gave a tentative nod, so slight Fiyero almost did not see it.

He spoke to Milla. The light in the attic was not bright enough to cut anyone's hair, she argued. After some deliberation, she decided that the whole family would make an impromptu trip to town. The family of six (soon-to-be seven) made a ruckus as they prepared to leave, and then the whole house suddenly fell silent when the door slammed shut behind them.

Fiyero waited for a while just in case one of the children forgot something and came back for it. The house remained quiet, and he brought her down the stairs, leading the way.

She had been so used to the dim light upstairs that the bright sunlight streaming in from the wide, open windows downstairs caught her by surprise. She lifted a hand to shield her eyes, and nearly missed her footing on the steps. Fiyero reached out for her, but she placed her other hand on the wall for support and shied away from him. She walked down the last few flights of steps when her eyes finally adapted to the brightness and entered the hall. Boq had started a fire burning in the fireplace, for them to dispose of the hair later, and it made the room warmer that it should be. There were two stools in the middle of the room, a comb and a pair of scissors on one of them. The green girl sat on the other stool. They both reached for her braid at the same time, their fingers touching, and she quickly pulled back and placed her hands on her lap.

"I'll do it," Fiyero offered. She kept quiet, her fingers twisting the fabric of her skirt.

He expected some tangles for hair as long and badly maintained as hers, but there was surprisingly none. Her hair was smooth and cool to the touch, like the best Vinkun silk. He ran his fingers through it more times than necessary, feeling the way each strand shifted against his fingers. He tried to gather the hair with his hands and brushed against her neck accidentally. He heard her sharp intake of breath, and her fingers tightened their grip on her skirt. He pretended not to notice it but picked up the comb left on the other stool and combed her hair until she visibly relaxed. He curled a lock of hair around his finger, just like what she did when she was reading, and watched as the hair slid away easily as if it had a life of its own.

"Are you going to start soon, Captain?" she asked, breaking him out of his reverie.

"How much should I cut?" He asked, pretending that he had been deep in thought about the haircut. "Here?" he asked as he pressed the scissors flat against the small of her back. "Or here?" He placed the metal higher up, somewhere below her shoulders. "Or here?" He tapped the scissors gently on her shoulder. "Or do you want to have hair as short as mine?" he teased.

"That sounds good, Captain Hairstylist," she replied, slightly humored.

He chuckled, glad that he was able to make her smile, even if it was just for a moment. "No way."

He started at the hair at her shoulder level, from the left to right. His amateurish snips resulted in jagged cuts that could not be fixed no matter how hard he tried.

"This is more difficult than I thought," he admitted. "You are not going to make it to the top ten best haircuts this year." She laughed softly, and it brought a smile to his lips.

The black hair against her black dress made it difficult for him to see clearly even in the bright room. He reached for a lock of hair to fix the disaster that he had made, and accidentally brushed against her jaw. She stiffened. He pretended not to notice it and snipped her hair. But he took care not touch her accidentally again. He wondered how many people could touch her without her flinching. He wondered how long it would take before she was used to a person's touch. How long it would take before she was used to _his_ touch.

The end result was, well, not as bad as he feared.

Her hair was now slightly above her shoulders, a few inches shorter than what he intended. He stood in front of her and pulled the hair from both sides of her face with his fingers. He had seen Glinda's hairdresser did that to ensure that the haircut was in symmetry on both sides of the face. The shorter hair framed her face, making her looked younger and more vulnerable. She looked back at him, her eyes the colour of overturned earth, flecked with mica. Brown and rich, eyes that anyone could drown in. He wanted to brush his thumb against her cheek and cup her face. He yearned to close the gap between them, to find out if his mouth fit hers, if grey lips were as soft as pink ones.

A piece of firewood popped in the fireplace, startling them, and both of them looked away at the same time. She looked at the hair on the floor.

"We should clean up the place before they come back," she said as she stood up and stepped away from him. Fiyero found two brooms and they worked in silence as they swept the area clean, depositing the hair into the fireplace where the fire was burning.

Boq and his family came back later, when she was hidden safely upstairs. Milla began to prepare their dinner while the children crowded around Fiyero, telling him all about their trip to town. The two older children got his attention with their louder voices and Clarinda wandered off, hurt.

That was, until she found something in the fireplace and elbowed her way back into the crowd, an animated look on her face.

"Look! My pony has a new tail!" she exclaimed excitedly as she lifted her hands to his eye level. One of her hands was holding the green horse that he had brought as a gift. She held something with her other hand, pinching it between her thumb and finger so that it met the dock of the horse.

It was a lock of black hair, slightly singed by fire.

* * *

As the days went by, the inevitable must happen - Fiyero had to go back to Emerald City.

He had already requested for an extension of his leave once via telegram, and he suspected that another extension would not be granted. He had been gone for too long. And he could not delay his decision any longer. He could bring her back with him as a prisoner, or he could arrange for some soldiers to guard her in Boq's place until she had fully regained her strength. The latter would give her more time to recover but would implicate Boq and his family. The former? He could not bear the thought of delivering her to Southstairs. She was a wanted criminal, and she would not be exempted from the interrogation and tortures that they dished out to the prisoners to make them talk. And then he remembered some stories that he had heard, stories about some guards who took delight in inflicting excessive pain on prisoners without reason, who thought that the female prisoners were their playthings to be humiliated. Southstairs had its own rules and he knew that he would not be able to intervene once she was there. There was no way he would know which area she would be assigned to, if she was safe from the guards' filthy hands and sadistic minds.

It left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"I will be leaving tomorrow," he said over dinner. Boq looked up in surprise and Milla gasped. "Can you give us a ride to town please?" Boq dropped his jaw at what he was insinuating. The children started talking at once.

"WhyWhyWhyWhy?"

"Uncle Fiyero! You can't leave! We have not gone camping yet!"

"Nooooo!" Clarinda climbed onto his lap and started wailing. Little Boq cried, for no reason other than his sister was crying.

"Oh no, please don't go…" she wrapped her arms around his neck and soaked his shirt with tears.

The children were loud enough to render conversation impossible for the rest of the dinner.

Fiyero found an opportunity to talk to Boq after dinner, when the latter was washing the dishes. Milla had left the room, unwilling to stay in the same room any longer.

"I can't delay it anymore," he told his friend, hoping that he would understand.

Boq glared at him. "Just continued to say that and it may make you feel better. It definitely does not make me feel better. I thought that you have more sense than this, but I think the tight pants that you used to wear in Shiz must have cut off the oxygen supply to your brain." He vent his anger on the plates.

"She needs to stand trial for the deeds that she has done. I know she does not look and act like a criminal, but there are things that she has done that she needs to answer for."

Boq gave a loud sigh as he threw the dish towel on the table.

"Fiyero, do you really believe that she did all those things? All those killing and burning? All those destruction? Have you ever asked her? Is the Gale Force's motto 'Guilty unless proven innocent'?"

"There's no smoke without fire."

"I think your head is stuffed with hay, Captain," was Boq's reply.

He knew that she knew the moment he went upstairs. The books, which were previously neatly stacked up (according to their sizes) were gone. In its place was a black cloak, newly washed and neatly folded. Next to it was her broom. She was lying on her side, on the leg that had just recovered, away from him.

"I'm sorry," he simply said.

She did not reply. Her eyes remained closed.

"Can you don't sleep on your left side? It may reopen the wound," he pleaded slightly. He did not know what else to say.

She replied by burrowing into a tighter ball and squeezing her eyes tight.

Fiyero sighed.

"Goodnight. I guess we have a long day tomorrow," he said as he lay down. He did not expect any reply, and he did not get any.

Captain Fiyero Tiggular put his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling, and counted sheep the whole night.

They got up before dawn, and shared a last breakfast in the attic in silence. They went down, her broom in his hand, and they stepped out of the house with Boq. The predawn wind blew across the fields, and Fiyero was thankful that Milla had made a new cloak for her. Her movements were slow, hampered by the ropes that bound her legs and wrists. He reached out to help her, but she jerked her hands away, her face turned to the side, unwilling to meet his eyes, her features a mask.

"I'll bring the cart over," the Munchkinlander muttered as he took one of the lamps and went in the direction of the stable.

The two of them stood outside the door and waited. Inside, Fiyero could hear Yellowgage's voice as the boy tried to get out of the bedroom to say goodbye to him. Milla hushed her son, and said something in a soft voice that he could not hear.

Boq was taking far too long.

Fiyero looked at the green girl. Her gaze was far away, as if she was a passenger at a platform, waiting for her train to come. The cloak billowed in the breeze, and he was reminded of the time when he first saw her in the Throne Room.

The eastern sky began to glow magenta and pink.

He shoved the broom into her hands.

"I'm not going to give you a second chance," he said. She looked at him, her face unreadable, her fingers opened. He let out a growl as he wrapped her fingers around the stick, and took out his dagger and slashed at the ropes, not caring that he had scratched the stones under her feet.

She stood there, like a statue. Or perhaps too stubborn to accept the chance that he was giving her, the chance that he knew he should not be giving.

"Go." He clenched his teeth. "Before I change my mind."

He did not wait for a reply, but spun on his heel and marched in the direction of the stable. Boq was most probably hiding in one of the stalls, stalling for time. He kept his fists in his pockets, wishing that there was something he could punch so that he would feel better.

He did not turn around until she was gone.

**A/N The description of Elphaba's eyes is taken from the book.**

**I will be undergoing some tests in the next two weeks, so do expect a delay for chapter 7.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**AN Thank you to MyLittleElphie for informing me that burnt hair will actually give off a terrible smell, so sorry for the big boo boo in the previous chapter *embarassed***

**My test results are out – the doctor did not find anything that could explain why the tumour marker shot up. More tests scheduled in April. Not looking forward to it.**

Fiyero looked out of the carriage window. He had been on the road for several days, spending his days in the carriage as it sped on the Yellow Brick Road towards Emerald City and his nights in shabby inns offering badly cooked Munchkinlander meals and Munchkin-size beds that provided more aches than rest. He was the only passenger in the carriage, a luxury that came with a premium price that he had paid willingly; he was not in the mood for conversation. Outside, the scenery switched between rolling green fields and rows of pine trees, but he registered none of it. His mind was only filled with one thing, his thoughts all about one girl.

He had not expected it to happen. He had not expected to find her there, nor everything else that followed.

He knew that it was totally wrong. He was a Captain of the Gale Force and she was a criminal, a wanted resistance rebel. And he was engaged, for Oz's sake. He had a fiancée, a beautiful woman who loved him and who had been there for him throughout the years. But he was unable to get the green girl out of his mind.

Fiyero Tiggular knew himself very well. He was only attracted to girls who were pretty and brainless (even Glinda was brainless when they started dating), girls whose idea of rebelling was to skip class to go shopping, or to steal a kiss with a boy behind her parents' back. They were predictable, they made him feel safe – they took what he said at face value and they did not know what he was really thinking. But there she was – neither pretty nor brainless. Someone who did not care about how she looked and what other people thought of her. A girl who was sarcastic and rude almost to the extent of being unreasonable. A girl with moods like the erratic Munchkinland weather and who was adamant in keeping him out. A girl who also happened to be one of the top terrorists of Oz.

There was no way he could explain what had happened. He had been swept by a wave that he had not seen coming, a wash of emotions that caught him by surprise, feelings so intense that he could not describe. The tingling at his fingertips that could explode into sparks if he touched her cheek, if he kissed her lips, and how much he wanted that to happen. The perpetual feeling that he was about to catch a glimpse of the real her only to have that door slammed shut at the last moment. He had thought that finding her would put an end to everything, but now it seemed that he was back to square one with more questions, and doubts that had never been there before. And he had committed a crime by letting her go, an offence punishable by life imprisonment if he was found out.

He let out a deep growl and raked his scalp with frustration.

He tried to think of Glinda instead, his fiancée, or maybe his ex-fiancee by now. He had not thought of her at all after the first day at Boq's and he knew why. He felt guilty. She did not deserve that, not when she had been so patient and loving to him. He wondered if she would be in the Wizard's Palace. He thought of visiting her in the office, surprising her with a kiss. Perhaps they could go on a short trip over the weekend. She would like that. He tried to imagine the smile on Glinda's face when he suggested that, the squeal that she would give, but he was unable to conjure up her image no matter how hard he tried.

He dropped off at his current residence for a change of clothes before he went back to the Wizard Palace. His current home was one of the two houses that he had in the Emerald City and one of the many around Oz. The houses were bought partly with his salary, but mostly with whatever funds he had at his disposal as a prince. It was not an open secret though. There was no need to let everyone knew about his personal life. He bought a few dozen pink Gillikin roses from a flower girl on his way to the palace. He knew the girl, an orphan living with some distant relatives who owned a small florist. The florist always sent her out to the streets with two large baskets of flowers, and Fiyero always bought some flowers from her whenever he saw her, paying her more than what he was supposed to. He hoped that the beautiful flowers would hide the guilt that he felt.

She was not in her office but someone else was. In a corner, arranging a vase of pink tulips, was the man who was with her when he came into her office the morning after their engagement party. He was dressed in a brightly coloured suit and humming a song.

"Where's Glinda?" Fiyero asked.

The man gave him a strange look.

"Who are you?" Fiyero asked his second question.

The man looked at the flowers in his hands.

"I'm not the florist, if that's what you are wondering. I'm Ric, her personal secretary." He never knew that she had a personal secretary. He brushed it aside.

"So where is she?"

"Who?"

"Glinda."

"Glinda the Good?"

Fiyero sighed. "Yes, Glinda the Good." Her personal secretary was trying his patience.

"I don't know."

"Who does?"

"I don't know."

"Are you sure you are her personal secretary? You don't even know where she is. She ought to fire you."

Fiyero turned around and walked out of the room.

"Have a nice day!" Glinda's personal secretary called after him.

He went back to his office (after giving the flowers to the first female staff that he encountered in the corridor), where a stack of paperwork was waiting for him. His second-in-command had placed those that required his urgent attention on top of the pile and he bulldozed through them, scribbling his signatures on the numerous papers that required his endorsement. When that was done, he made himself a cup of coffee and spent the next hour staring at the map that was on the wall, the coffee turning cold.

He looked at the pins indicating the various sightings and attacks. The pins were scattered all over the map of Oz (the Wizard had no jurisdiction beyond that). The attacks were random. They came without warning. There was no pattern that he could find.

He focused on the pins which marked the locations where farmlands were destroyed and livestock were killed. Why would she do it when she obviously cared for Boq and the plight of the farmers? Was it the working of a brilliant mind out to confuse the Gale Force or an insane mind unable to think rationally?

But she had not shown any sign of insanity in the few weeks when they were together. Stubborn? Yes. Sarcastic? Absolutely. Insane? He could not find a single trace of insanity, unless he counted her obsession with books as a sign of mental illness. He was not a mind reader, especially with women (he used to think that he was an expert in women, but that was only on how to please them and charm them, not how their minds really worked outside of a relationship) but he seriously doubted that she was crazy.

He went to the wall and took out the pins one by one. Perhaps they were wrong, obscuring his thoughts. He removed all of them, leaving the paper heavily pockmarked, before he put a pin in the middle of the map, right in the heart of the Emerald City. A pin for the day when she appeared in the Throne Room.

The door opened behind him.

He turned around. It was Madame Morrible, who never knocked on anyone's door, not even when she entered the Throne Room or the Wizard's personal quarters. Sometimes he wondered why the Wizard let her get away with such impertinence, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

"Captain," she sashayed in. She wore a red dress with wide sleeves thick with embroidery and a trailing skirt. A dress that would be greatly improved if he poured his coffee over it. "You've definitely taken your own sweet time in coming back."

He ignored the sarcasm. "Good afternoon, Madame. Is there anything that I can help with? Did anything happen when I was away?"

"Anything?" she was affronted. "Why, Captain, didn't your men inform you? The Witch struck again when you were away. She descended on a group of miners in Quadling who had just come out of the mines with a truckload of rubies. She killed every single one of them and made off with the stones. This wickedness must be stopped!"

* * *

Glinda came and looked for him in the evening (apparently her personal secretary had managed to find her, or maybe she found him) and they had dinner in one of her favourite restaurants near the palace.

There was this awful silence after the waiter had left with their orders. Glinda played with her glass of ice juice, her finger trailing the curve of the glass, breaking the condensation. It was such a simple, innocent gesture, but Fiyero was reminded of how a particular girl he knew would never be able to do that.

He wrapped his fingers around the stem of his glass, feeling the chill moisture on his skin. He closed his eyes, trying to imagine how it would feel like if the water burned his skin.

His eyes opened and he found Glinda looking at him. She smiled.

"So how's your trip?" she asked as she dabbed her finger on her napkin. There was no blister, no burn.

"Good." He took a drink from his glass to hide his thoughts.

"So how's Boq and Milla?"

"They're fine. Milla's pregnant."

"Oh," she squeaked, and that was followed by another silence.

"She's happy," he had to add, though he suspected that Glinda would never believe that. Living a life like what Milla had, to forgo the life of a pampered child in a middle-income Gillikinese family to marry a poor Munchkinlander farmer, was most probably a sentence worse than death in Glinda's opinion.

"Mmm," she made some suitable sound and was visibly relieved when their food arrived.

They took their meals in silence. Fiyero wanted to ask Glinda something, about someone, and he broached the topic with the utmost casualness.

"Glinda, I am thinking …"

Glinda patted his hand and smiled indulgently. "Fiyero dear, you are always thinking nowadays. It doesn't hurt if you give your brain a rest sometimes."

He shook his head. "No, Glinda. I am thinking… what if we are wrong about the Wicked Witch of the West?" He almost grimaced at the name that he used to address her.

Glinda frowned, something that she rarely did, but that expression was replaced by a wide smile barely a tick tock later.

"Fiyero," she replied with a perky voice. "It's after office hours, why are you still thinking about work? Look? Music!" She turned to the source of the music, somewhere to her right a few tables away. A violinist had stepped up to a table where a couple was dining and started to play a song, his head swaying to and fro together with the movement of the bow. The music was sorrowful, but the woman at the table gave a delightful cry. Before Fiyero knew it, her companion was on one knee, an open velvet box in one hand.

"Lila, we have only known each other for a few months, but I know that I cannot live without you. You are my sunshine, my joy, my life. You are the best thing that has happened to me. I want to be with you every single day and night. It will be my greatest honor if you will agree to be my wife. Will you marry me?"

The woman, Lila, put a hand to her heart and then nodded with a soft yes. Her companion put the ring on her finger before he stood up and kissed her gently on her lips. The staff and the customers around them applauded.

Fiyero looked back at Glinda and saw the way she looked at the couple with misty eyes, the envy that was written plainly on her face. She seemed to realise that he was looking at her, and gave him a tight, nervous smile.

"I suppose we have to go over and congratulate them, shan't we?" she said, and then she stood up and tossed her hair methodically before she placed her hand on his arm and they went to the table.

The couple was delighted when they saw Glinda.

"It's Glinda the Good," the woman called Lila gasped.

"Congratulations, Dear." She said, her voice soft and friendly. "We were at our table and we overheard the proposal. This is so romantic." She placed a hand on Lila's arm. "I don't know the two of you personally, but I can see the love that you have, and I am sure that you will be very happy together."

The woman squealed at that comment and her fiancé wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"Thank you, Glinda the Good."

"Oh, don't be so formal. Just call me Glinda," Glinda replied with a soft giggle.

"Glinda," the man said with a slight bow.

"Oh, Glinda, forgive me for being so rude. I forget to say congratulations to you and Captain Fiyero! The perfect couple!" Lila exclaimed and gave Glinda a hug, unable to contain her excitement. "Congratulations on your engagement! How I wish I was there to witness the proposal. Was it romantic?"

"Of course," Glinda replied as she looked up at Fiyero with a dreamy smile. He returned her smile, playing his part. "But let's not talk about that. It's your big day today, not mine."

The two ladies continued to chat for a while and admired each other's engagement rings before Glinda excused themselves and they went back to their seats. Their food had turned cold and Glinda put down her cutlery after she had taken a bite, claiming that she was no longer hungry. They left the restaurant, but not before they congratulated the couple on their engagement again.

Fiyero looked at her when they were in the carriage. She was quiet again. She looked out of the window, her arms around her as if she was cold.

He wanted to ask Glinda about their days in Shiz, about a girl whom he believed was from that school. A girl with green skin, black hair and a stubborn personality. He wanted to know if Glinda knew who she was and if she had any friend in school, if anyone he knew was her friend.

He reached for her hand and Glinda gave him a wan smile, but she pulled her hand away.

They reached the palace at that moment and Fiyero helped her out of the carriage. She switched to her public persona the moment she got out of the carriage and greeted the guards on duty at the gate cheerfully. She was always so professional; she never let her own emotions affected the moods of those around her. The façade dropped once they had entered the gates and were alone again. Fiyero followed her as they went back to her apartment in the Palace. She was quiet, as if she was miles away instead of just next to him. It felt strange. Fiyero was usually the quiet one and she would talk enough for the two of them. But now even she was quiet, as if there was nothing more to say between them. He wondered if her female intuition had simply sensed the guilt that he felt.

They reached her room.

"Goodnight," Fiyero said and he kissed her on her cheek.

"Fiyero?"

"Yes?"

"I'm leaving for home the day after tomorrow. I will be away for a few weeks, maybe more. Momsie and Popiscle miss me."

"Of course," he said automatically.

"And…" she looked away. "They'll be introducing some people to me. Some young men, some older ones." She laughed nervously. "All supposedly very rich and handsome. Oh well, maybe the only the younger ones are handsome." She wrung her fingers and twisted the engagement ring on her finger. He knew what she was trying to say. Her parents wanted her to reconsider her choice of husband. Maybe she was expecting him to stop her from going, or to go with her to prove his sincerity. That was what he was considering earlier that day, to go on a short trip with her. But now it did not seem like a good idea after all. It was never a good idea.

"I'll see you off," he offered.

"No, it's alright." She shook her head. "Popsicle will be coming to fetch me."

"Let's meet for lunch tomorrow," he suggested.

She shook her head again.

"I have a lot of work to clear before I go."

Fiyero could only pretend to understand.

* * *

Fiyero spent the next morning clearing some of the work that had piled up when he was on leave. He dug through the mountain of paper, looking for a report that he knew would most probably be found between a notice on something like an upcoming inspection exercise and the monthly report on the number of boots and uniform outworn by his men. He found it, a replication of the telegram that had come through, briefly describing the attack and the number of fatalities. He looked at the date of the message and his eyebrows knitted together. He went through the stack again, but the detail report was not in. He cursed at the delay and crumpled up the flimsy first report before he hurled it at the wall. It bounced back and landed next to his feet. He stepped on the offensive piece of paper on his way out. There was somewhere he had to go.

The Public Building was a two-storey brick building outside the city center of the Emerald City. The building was old, the bricks faded to a mouldy grey and covered with soot from the neighbouring factories that had since closed down (because they were ran by Animals and hired Animal workers)

The building housed a few civil departments which tracked most of the public records – births and deaths, registrations of various skillsets, approval requests, records and so on. Despite its name, the place was not opened to the public, but Fiyero's emerald uniform opened doors.

While he was not a regular to this building, he was familiar with its layout, having visited it a few times before for work. He made his way to a small room on the second floor, with a door badly labelled as 'Rec ds (2)'. He went in and nodded to the only staff on duty, a small shriveled woman who was barely tall enough for the big table.

"Yes?" she asked in a raspy voice, as if she had no energy to say anything more than that.

"I am looking for the teaching registry, Madame," he said, trying not to let the frustration from the morning crept into his voice.

She took out a bunch of keys from the drawer. The keys were all identical, and she went through them slowly until she reached a key somewhere in the middle and took it out. She pointed at one of the many rows of cabinets and Fiyero wordlessly took over the tiny key. He went to the cabinet and managed to unlock it after a couple of tries; he had no idea when it was last opened. He went through the drawers, pulling cobwebs from the inside, trying not to sneeze at the yellowed files. It took him a while before he found what he was looking for - the teaching registry, which recorded all the teachers' qualifications and experience. A teacher had to pay an annual fee to renew his teaching license, without which he would not be allowed to teach in Oz. Not surprisingly, any teacher who wished to update his qualifications in the registry would have to pay an administrative fee too.

The files were, thankfully, filed in alphabetical order and Fiyero managed to find the one that he was looking for quite easily; there was only one file under the category 'Dg - Dm'.

His last record was from a few years ago, when he had taught in Shiz. His teaching license had not been renewed since then. It could mean a few things – that Doctor Dillamond was no longer teaching or he had gone into private teaching (which was based more on word-of-mouth) or he had simply left Oz.

Fiyero put the file back into the cabinet and approached the old woman again. "Excuse me, Madame?"

She reached out her hand for the key and it was a while before she realized that he was not there to return the key.

"Yes?" she asked grudgingly, rationing her words.

"The teaching registry. Do you have any information if a teacher has left for private teaching or is teaching outside Oz?"

"No."

"What about the latest residential address?"

"Do I look as if I have time for such trivial?" She stretched out her hand again. Well, actually Fiyero thought that she had all the time in the world. It seemed that the only outstanding task on her list was to die, and she was taking her own sweet time to reach that goal. But he kept his thoughts to himself and reluctantly handed over the key.

He left the building brooding. He had thought that he would be able to find the information easily. To prove to himself, to _her_, that Doctor Dillamond was somewhere, safe and alive, spending his days marking badly-written papers and being terrorised by unappreciative students like who he used to be. To convince himself that she was just rambling, paranoia and no one was being prosecuted for speaking out. The last time he saw Doctor Dillamond was when the Goat was being led away by the campus security. He remembered that the Goat had shouted to his students, asking them to, what, work hard? Keep their eyes open? Not to trust the Wizard administration? He had thought of the professor a few times since then but had never really thought of where he had gone. Afterall, he was just one of the many professors that he had met in his colourful school life. But now a few words from a girl had sent his mind into overdrive.

Fiyero made his way back to his office, deep in thoughts, trying to work out his next step.

He turned a corner and looked up to see the tall spires of the palace before him, and he remembered.

* * *

He went to the Wizard Palace the next morning. Glinda had said that her father would be picking her up, but he knew her well enough to know that she would not embark on a journey without a proper breakfast. He suspected that her father would be there as well. He joined them for breakfast in her apartment. Highmuster Arduenna was sober, charming but the conversation was strained. Even Glinda was subdued. He wondered if it was due to the presence of her father or the awkward dinner that they had two nights ago.

Fiyero went back to the palace when their carriage had disappeared from sight. It was still early, and the staff on day shift had not reported to work. He walked along the corridors, nodding to anyone who saw him. They would think that he was on his way to see Glinda or on business, as he had done so many times before.

He stopped by the key room which stored the keys to most of the rooms in the palace. There was always a guard on duty, and anyone who wished to sign out a key would have to present an appropriate authorisation letter. Fiyero inspected the place and the guard, checking for dust on the furniture and creases on the guard's uniform. He asked the guard about his background, browsed the logs and took a look at the key box. One of the advantages about being captain was that hardly anyone would question him what he was doing, even when he was doing something that was not within his jobscope. This guard was no exception. He looked at the Arjiki captain with awe, perhaps wondering what it would take for him to rise up the ranks. Fiyero gave a few encouraging words and complimented him for keeping the key room and his uniform neat and clean. He dropped a piece of paper on the floor, out of sight, so that he had a reason to return to the room later. When that was done, he made his way to the upper floors of the palace. There was no delegate visiting that day and no meeting scheduled, and so the upper floors (besides the topmost floor which housed the Wizard's personal quarters) were deserted.

He went to the Throne Room. The room was not booked the next few days and so the locked room was unguarded. After double checking that the corridor was empty, he took out the key that he had taken from the key box while pretending to inspect the keys earlier. He unlocked the door and slipped into the room before he locked the door behind him. He did not dare to turn on the lights, not knowing if the light from under the door would attract anyone's attention. He opened one of the windows slightly, letting the morning sunlight shone on the bronze head and the curtain behind it.

He remembered that the curtain was opened partially the last time. He jerked at it, but the fabric was pulled taut and secured with iron rings both at the top and on the rail on the floor, stretching from one end of the room to the other. There was only the slightest gap between the curtain and the wall; it was impossible for him to squeeze through. He tried to peek inside, but could not see anything beyond a few inches. Fiyero scanned the wall in the dim light. There must be something used to operate the curtain. He had seen it drawn back before. And then he spotted it.

It was on the wall behind the curtain, in the shadows, a thin lever with an incomplete ring that looked as if it was a hook for securing the fabric when it was drawn back. Fiyero looked at it, wondering if it would operate the curtain or if it would reveal a trap under his feet. He pulled the lever, and was unable to hide his relief when the curtain moved away from him.

There was a large cage quite a distance behind the curtain, shrouded in darkness. That would explain why he did not notice it the last time. The cage was made of copper. Part of it had oxidized, turning the cage verdigris. The cage was empty. Well, almost empty. There was a lump in the cage, covered by a plain blanket. It was not moving.

"Hello?" Fiyero whispered.

The blanket shivered.

He rattled the cage, feeling slightly juvenile, like a child who was trying to disturb a helpless young cub held captive in a cage. He stopped when the lump started to move. It moved around aimlessly, from left to right, in a zigzag manner, slowly moving towards Fiyero. The lump changed its mind and moved to another direction, away from him. Fiyero swore, and then stopped when it turned and came towards him again. It seemed to be attracted to sounds. He called to it softly, saying one meaningless word after another. The thing moved slowly, but soon it was within his reach. Fiyero reached for the edge of the blanket with his fingers and jerked it away, revealing an old, familiar figure. A goat, no, a Goat, on all fours, his clothes tattered and dirty. His features were older and definitely more unkempt, the awareness and the intelligence behind the eyes no longer there. The Animal in front of him looked and acted more like an animal than an Animal, but Fiyero recognized him nonetheless.

"Doctor Dillamond?" he whispered.

The Goat baaed at him, once, twice, as if he recognized his own name, and sniffed at the hand that was wrapped around the bar of the cage. He baaed with disappointment when he realized that the prince did not bring any food.

"Good Oz," Fiyero swore. She was right after all.

As he watched, the Goat poked his muzzle under the fallen blanket that was in the cage. Within seconds, he managed to burrow himself under the sheet. Secured with the feeling of the heavy fabric around him, he continued to move around the cage aimlessly, before he stopped somewhere in the middle and sat down and slept.

He never acknowledged his ex-student.

**AN : I am so tired editing this lengthy chapter that I almost split it into two!**

**AN : I am back on twitter again, this time at YeroTigelaar . Yes, I know that it is totally different from my fanfiction name (talk about lack of consistency) but I found this combination of Fiyero's name that is not taken and I just have to use it! ;) Nothing much there, just random thoughts and ramblings.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

**AN : Work eats up my creative brain cells.**

**AN : I am currently reading both the Grimmerie and Paul Laird's Wicked : A Musical Biography. Both books are absolutely amazing and give so much insight on how the musical evolve from a concept to become the much-loved musical that we watch today. A must-read for any Wicked fan. Buy, beg or borrow if you can.**

Fiyero ran around the perimeter of the field. His men were at the finishing point, talking to one another and taking their time to cool down while their crazy captain ran a couple more rounds. The run cleared his mind a little, but not enough for him to come up with the solutions to his problems. He was tired, but he kept his pace steady, the thumping of his footsteps oddly rhythmic with his breathing, the strain on his thigh muscles bringing him back to the day when he cradled a green girl in his arms and navigated his way across the rain-soaked grounds of a farm. A few of his men looked up as he approached, expecting him to slow to a stop before he dismissed them. He knew what they were thinking – half of them suspected that he was going crazy while the other half were secretly glad that he did not impose the same punitive regime on them. He stared straight ahead and spurred himself to do another round.

The detail report had finally come in, just a double-spaced, badly typewritten report elaborating on the incident. The mine was located in a place about five days from Qhovre, a place so isolated and sparsely populated that no one had ever bothered to give it a name. There was no witness, but one of the miners had managed to hold on until help came, and he had revealed that it was the Witch's doing before he died from his extensive injuries. Fiyero had checked the date again - it matched the date mentioned in the first report. The incident took place one day after she had woken up, when she was still too weak to stand, let alone fly all the way to Quadling.

Fiyero completed another round and came to a stop, unable to continue any more. He looked at his men, the group of soldiers that he was training to protect Oz and her people, the soldiers who would catch _her_ if they saw her, who were instructed to kill her on sight if an arrest was not an option. For a moment, he was glad that they were not as good as he had wished they were.

"Dismiss," he told them, and they slowly shuffled their way to their barracks to prepare for their morning lessons. The Wizard had announced that he was going on a trip; he wanted to travel incognito to visit his people, and Fiyero had been tasked to ensure that the he would be protected very inch of the way. The Wizard had listed a few places that he would like to visit, but Shiz was not on the list. The captain wondered if he should suggest his old university to His Ozness. He would like to visit the school again, if only to search through the student records to find out more about a particular student.

Fiyero had reread the previous reports while waiting for the latest one to come in. They were all different, yet similar. Sometimes there was no witness, and the soldiers inferred that the act was committed by the Witch based on circumstantial evidence. In other reports, the witnesses were unreliable, ranging from a travelling salesman, a drunk or a severely injured person who was most probably in too much pain to think rationally. Other witnesses had common Ozian names and no address, as expected from attacks that took place mostly in sparsely populated areas with makeshift housing. There was also a report on a bomb attack on a prison, with fatalities on both sides. Many of the reports were badly-written, the information badly lacking. He knew that some of the stations were manned by men who were lowly educated and who were not well-trained. He also understood that hardly anyone liked to write reports, but the lack of details now irked him beyond reason.

Fiyero chugged down the water from his water bottle as he made his way back to his office and switched his mind to his other problem – Doctor Dillamond.

He did not realize that it would be that difficult. He did not know of anyone whom he could approach and who he could ask. Animals had left the Emerald City long ago. At first, they were just banned from their professions. Shops which hired Animals were searched frequently and fined for no reason. Soon after, even the labour and manual jobs were out of their reach. A few Animals, just a handful, with other sources of income or who were stubborn and persistent stayed on, but were accosted and roughed up in broad daylight. A house was torched. Animals were no longer allowed to dine in restaurants. Taxes and charges were split into two tiers, one tier for human and another, much higher, tier for Animals. The owner of a seedy establishment was found confining a young Horse. The man claimed ignorance, and the Animal was jailed on charges of deceit, for failing to declare that he was an Animal. The message was clear – Animals were no longer welcome in the Emerald City; the city would not protect them. People stopped talking about the Animals. It was as if there was never a time when Animals were on par with humans.

The solution came from the strangest of all places.

Avaric turned up at Fiyero's office one evening, one week after Glinda left, a lopsided grin on his face.

"Hello, Bachelor!" he greeted Fiyero.

Fiyero turned away from him. He was reviewing his report on the security controls that needed to be implemented for the Wizard's upcoming trip, trying to spot any loopholes that he had missed out previously, and he did not care to be disturbed.

Avaric was not so easily deterred. He grabbed the chair by its armrests and turned it so that the Arjiki was facing him again. When that did not work, the Gillikinese snatched the paper and tossed it away before he waved his hand two inches from the Arjiki's face. "I'm surprised."

"Surprised by what?" Fiyero asked after he had picked up the piece of paper that had landed on the floor. "Surprised by how insufferable you can be?"

Avaric chuckled. "Come on, sarcasm does not suit you. Haven't you heard? Glinda is doing catchup on her debutante balls. She has been attending countless social events in Gillikin, being parade around like a prized cow."

Fiyero winced at the description.

"And I was told that she is enjoying every single moment and outshining the other girls, even those much younger than her," Avaric added. "Where does that leave you, lover boy?"

Fiyero did not answer.

"Heart broken," the future Margreave of Tenmeadows concluded. He tugged at Fiyero's arm. "Come on, you need to stop moping. She's not the only cow in the field."

"I'm not moping."

"Really? Then what's that gloomy face for? I may not be your bestest pal in Shiz – that will be Farmer Boq, but I do know when a friend needed some cheering up. Let's go for dinner. My treat. And I am not taking no for an answer."

Fiyero ignored him. Avaric walked around the room, stamping his feet and making clucking sounds and drumming his fingers on the table until Fiyero could not take it anymore.

"Just dinner?"

"Just dinner. And maybe some entertainment. You'll thank me for it."

"I need to change."

Avaric wrapped an arm around the Arjiki's shoulder and cheekily trailed a finger along his jaw before he tapped on one of the tiny diamond tattoos on his face.

"Don't bother. You have no idea how much you drive women crazy with your tattoos and this uniform."

But Avaric was not an unreasonable person (or so he claimed). He instructed his driver to go to Fiyero's house and gave him time to change, all the while pacing around his living room and grumbling why there was no wine in the house.

They ended up in a high end restaurant near the city center, a place where the staff greeted Avaric with a bow and remembered his previous orders. The place has two floors and the waiter led them to a private room on the upper floor, where the Gillikinese could look down at the crowd below.

Fiyero had to admit that the food was a feast for the eyes and the palate. Each dish was made with the finest ingredients and came in a small serving that was exquisitely decorated. Fiyero stuck to a glass of wine, but Avaric tried from different bottles. He divided his attention between the food (and wine) and the crowd below, waving to any business associate he knew and letting his eyes lingered hungrily on the exposed skin of some of the younger ladies.

"Would you like some dessert, Sir?" the waiter asked respectfully when the two had finished their dinner.

"Yes, dessert," Avaric said, "Just not those from your kitchen."

The waiter nodded with understanding. Fiyero gave Avaric a questioning look.

"You need some cheering up, and I know just the place to go."

"I don't need cheering up," Fiyero protested. "And I don't think I am interested in whatever you are suggesting."

"Yes, you do. I recognise a broken heart when I see one." He jabbed a finger at the Arjiki's chest, and then tossed his head back and finished his wine.

Fiyero wondered if his friend really saw a broken heart. And if he knew who he was really thinking of.

"This place is not open to any Pom, Biq or Tarry,"Avaric added as he dabbed his lips with the napkin. "Membership is by invitation only. And you, my friend, has been accorded this exclusive privilege by virtue of your close association with yours truly." He threw down his napkin before adding with a shrug. "Your promotion helps, of course. But just this much." He measured a tiny gap between his thumb and forefinger.

He stood up. "This place is paradise-on-Oz for a man, and they know how to keep their mouths shut. You don't have to worry about your reputation, nor about drama Glinda finding out. You have been a serious boy for such a long time. It's high time we inject some fun back into your life."

"I don't think…"

"Don't be a prude." The Gillikinese grabbed his friend by the arm.

They exited by a back door, with Avaric leading the way, and crossed two alleys before they came upon a building with dark, paneled-up windows. The lamps on both sides of the only door in the building seemed to give off darkness instead of light.

Avaric rapped on the door impatiently, the knocks echoing, and was rewarded when a slot at the eye level opened. A pair of eyes peered out and scrutinized the faces for a while before the door opened, revealing a tall, muscular man. Without being asked, the man produced two cards, as if by magic, and Avaric took them.

"Two hearts. How appropriate," Avaric said as he pressed one of the cards into Fiyero's hand.

They went down a flight of stairs and through another guarded door before they finally arrived. The place, like the stairs before it, was dimly lit. The hall was dim and smoky, and Fiyero was unable to see anything beyond ten feet; all he could see were silhouettes of different shapes and the occasional glimpses that blended back into the crowd before the features were discernible. He followed Avaric closely, focusing on his white shirt which seemed to fluoresce under the dim lights. There was music in the air, not the kind of music that was commonly heard in Emerald City, but a deeper drumming kind of music that seemed to resonate within him. Someone walked past with a tray of drinks. A Horse, Fiyero started, but then on a closer look, realized that it was only a person with a life-size mask of a Horse. Avaric took two glasses from the tray and downed one before he passed the other glass to Fiyero. The drink was strong, sickeningly sweet, with a slight bitter aftertaste. Fiyero put it on the tray of the next waiter (a Cow) who passed by. He turned around, looking for the door where they had entered, but it seemed to be swallowed up by the crowd and the smoke.

There was a dance floor in the middle of the room, filled with people dancing. Some of them wore masks, and Fiyero wondered if the masks were only worn by the staff as part of their uniform or if they were also worn by the customers who discarded the social pretences that they held on so dearly during the day while they indulged in a night of debauchery. Against a table, three person were making out, oblivious to anything else. Fiyero turned his head away. A woman came up to Avaric. She wore a fiery red wig, had too much kohl around her eyes, and her ample breasts were spilling out of that little piece of fabric that was being passed off as a dress. She kissed Avaric on his mouth. Avaric whispered something in her ear, gesturing towards Fiyero, with a grin that the Arjiki could see clearly. She moved on to Fiyero and kissed him, her tongue darting like a snake's, her hand moving down to the front of his pants. He pushed her away gently, but firmly. Avaric laughed at his clear discomfort.

The place reminded him of the Philosophy Club, where they had visited when they were still eager, but innocent students in Shiz. He remembered that they were given seven-of-diamond tickets; there were seven of them - Avaric,, Boq, Tibbett, Crope, Glinda (she was known as Galinda then) and himself. But who was the last person in the group? Was it one of Glinda's friends? Pfannee? Shenshen? Milla? Tried as he might, Fiyero could not remember.

Another woman came up to them, this time with a blue wig. She draped an arm around Avaric and cooed something into his ears. It could be due to the smoke, but the two women on both sides of the Gillikinese looked identical except for the colour of their wigs. Avaric laughed heartily and said something to Fiyero, something about 'twins' before he was being steered away. Fiyero tried to pull him back but was stopped by an old woman who seemed to appear out of nowhere. She grabbed his wrist, her fingernails digging into his skin, and took his card from him. The music was still loud and booming, but he could hear her asking for the whereabouts of the other card holder. He pointed to the distance, where Avaric could be seen disappearing behind a curtain, flanked by a woman on each side. The old woman pulled him in the opposite direction, through another door. There were a few doors on one of the walls, and in the middle was a room with rounded walls, covered with waxed off-white paper framed by strips of paneled wood. The structure looked fragile, as if it could topple over any moment and the paper torn into pieces. There were yellow lights everywhere, and he could see his own shadows overlapping on the paper wall, like a child's nightmare. The old woman gave the wall a push and it moved in a clockwise direction. The wall rotated for a while before it stopped, and the outline of a door appeared. She opened the door and somehow Fiyero knew that he was supposed to go in. The door closed the moment he was inside. When he turned, the wall was spinning again, the door gone from his sight.

The stall inside was small. The walls at the sides were solid, separating him and the occupants in the adjacent stalls. In front of him was a raised platform, a stage of some sort, curtained with black, heavy drapes. The room was empty, except for three comfortable-looking leather couches. He sat on one of them. A wild thought came to him – it could be the skin of an Animal, perhaps someone he used to know. He shifted to the edge of the couch, minimizing contact, and then gave up totally and paced the room instead. Behind him, the wall alternated between spinning and stopping, its rattling sound strangely hypnotising, like the prattle of rain on a window pane. He could hear sounds from the outside when more customers were brought in and distributed to the rest of the rooms – there were chatters, whispers and, sometimes, squeals. Fiyero would like to say that this is a poor imitation of what he had experienced in the Philosophy Club years ago, when he was younger and more naïve, but he could not. The paneled wall stopped spinning again, and this time, the door stopped in front of him. The door opened and a man tumbled in, someone whom he had not seen before. The man took a look at the Arjiki in the room and managed a giggle before he threw himself on one of the couches. The door spun out of sight.

A final release of something colourful and sickeningly sweet clouded the air around him and the curtains went up, revealing a stage of black, spotlights on a dwarf and a table filled with strange assortments. The dwarf moved from stall to stall, gathering participants. He pulled up someone with the mask of a Cow from one stall, and did some coaxing before a Gillikinese businessman went on stage, his red face a contrast to his serious business suit. From the third stall, a woman with a fiery red wig pranced onto the stage. Was she the same woman who was with Avaric? Did that mean that Avaric was here too? Fiyero craned his neck for a better view but was unable to see the remaining occupants in that stall. His action could have caught the attention of the dwarf, and the dwarf beckoned him with a curled finger. The man in the same stall as him stood up, but the dwarf shook his head and wiggled his short finger. _No no_.

The dwarf pointed at him. You, he mouthed.

Fiyero turned, wondering if there was someone else behind him when he saw the shadows casted on the paper wall from outside. The shadows were distorted, looming from short to long as a figure walked in front of the lights, but there was no mistaking the pointed ears, the sinewy torso and the long ropey tail.

A Tiger.

He went to the wall. The door was not there and he was trapped. He pushed on the wall with all his might and the wall moved grudgingly. He wondered how did the old woman make it looked so easy, there must be some mechanism in place. Behind him, the dwarf gapped, unable to believe that there was a customer who was not coming on stage willingly. He skipped to the other stall, much to the chagrin of the other man in the same stall. The door finally appeared and Fiyero yanked it open, in time to see a figure disappeared behind one of the many doors lining the wall. He ran towards the closing door and pulled it open. There was a dark, narrow tunnel, a narrow stream of light near the ground at the end of the tunnel. He ran towards it and opened the door, only to find a small room, gaudily decorated. The old woman stood there, as if she was expecting him. The Tiger was nowhere to be seen.

"Going somewhere, Captain? But the show had just started!"

"There's a Tiger," was all he could say.

"Did you see a Tiger? It must be the drink that you had. It gives you a high, makes you see what you want to see."

"I didn't drink it," he lied, undermining its potency.

"Don't tell me you didn't breathe either," the old woman cackled as she curled her fingers in the air. A fissure on the wall gave off another candy-coloured puff as if on cue, emphasizing her point.

Fiyero wanted to tell her that whatever he had drunk or breathed did not work, for he did not see what he wanted to see most. He did not see a solemn green girl in a black dress.

"I'll search the place. I'll find it," he said, referring to the Tiger.

"You won't find anything. And this place is so large, Captain. Rooms within rooms, mazes of passageways. Not every corridor leads to a nice, cosy room like this. I would hate it when a few of your men go missing just because you thought you saw an Animal," the old women said calmly, and he knew. There could be more – hidden passageways, secrets rooms, escape routes. He would not find anything. He would not be able to find the Tiger even if he had his men surrounded the building and searched for weeks.

Some of the tunnels could lead out of the City.

She seemed to read his mind.

"Do you know what old Yackle loves most about this city? That every man here has his secrets, Captain. Every man has something he wants so badly it keeps him awake at night." The old woman looped an arm around his. "And even the most righteous is not immune to this."

* * *

It was the middle of the night. The pubs near to the Wizard's Palace had closed, and the streets were empty.

A lone figure walked towards the palace, skillfully walking in the shadows of the trees and houses so that he would not be seen. He wore a dark hooded shirt and pants, his boot-cladded feet making no sound as he made his way towards his destination.

Instead of going to one of the gates, which were manned at all hours, he made his way to the walls. He stood next to the wall, his ear pressed against the green-painted bricks as he listened to the sounds on the other side. His hand went into his pocket and felt the smooth skin of the fruit, making sure that it had not dropped out of his pocket along the way. The sky was still dark, and if anyone walked past the walls, they would not have noticed the dark skinned man in the dark clothes next to the dark green wall. As he waited, a dark hooded figure, taller and broader than him, joined him. The figure was clad totally in black, with the hood of the robe covered his face. The robe had long sleeves which covered the arms and hands and the robe ended at the floor. He made no sound and barely gave a nod in the direction of the prince. Behind the wall, a pair of guards walked past, chatting loudly with each other as they tried to keep sleep away.

Fiyero gave himself five minutes after the noise from the guards faded away. He knew their routine. The next pair of guards would not come so soon. He scaled the wall easily and dropped noiselessly onto the ground on the other side. Next to him, the figure landed gracefully before standing up to his full height. He looked at the top of wall and tried not to think of the return trip.

The duo made their way to the Throne Room silently. The curiosity was gnawing at Fiyero but he kept quiet. For all he knew, it was a trap, and he would be arrested for treason. Or it might be a case of unmistaken identity, though he really doubted so. He had to trust that he was doing the right thing, or live with the guilt for the rest of his life that he had not done anything when he could.

At the Throne Room, the hooded figure lifted his covered hand and pressed his wide gloved palm against the keyhole. A tiny click, and the door opened on its own. Fiyero led the way to the bronze head and pulled on the lever, revealing the cage behind the curtain. The hooded figure moved silently along the length of the cage, and then stopped and pressed the same hand against the cold metal. Another click, and the hand reached out and pulled the cage door opened. Who was this? A key master? The figure stood there silently, waiting for him.

The door was low, and Fiyero had to bend down in order to go in. Doctor Dillamond was still there; he could see a hoof sticking out from underneath the blanket. He took an apple from his pocket and approached the lump.

"Hey, Doctor Dillamond. I got you an apple," he whispered as he waved the fruit in front of the lump.

There was no response.

Fiyero went closer, and lifted the blanket with his other hand. Doctor Dillamond shifted, roused by the disturbance, and then lifted his head when he smelled the fruit. The Goat inched closer to the man, sniffing at the apple. Fiyero took a step back, and then another. He wondered if the hooded figure would perform some miracle with his hands when Doctor Dillamond was within his reach. His question was answered when he lured his ex-professor out of the cage. A small bottle appeared from under the robe, uncorked, and waved underneath the Goat's nose.

The Goat blinked once, twice, and then his eyelids began to flutter. The Animal staggered, and a strong arm shot up and flipped the drowsy Animal over a shoulder. The bottle disappeared under the robe and the hooded figure turned to leave. And not for the first time, Fiyero was struck by the change in Doctor Dillamond since Shiz days; despite how little he knew of the professor, he knew that the Goat would never give up so easily. He would never give in without a struggle.

Before he knew it, his accomplice had crossed the room in a few, large strides and reached the door.

"Hey," Fiyero called out, a bit too loudly. The figure turned, and he could imagine the eyebrows rising inside the hood.

"Where are you bringing him? How do I know that he will be safe?" he asked.

The figure stood there, the dead weight still over one shoulder, and turned away again. The answer was clear – he would never know. He had asked Yackle for help, but he would never know if help was rendered or if he was just hastening the professor's death.

Fiyero hastily caught up with the departing figure. It was going to be dawn soon. The people working the day shift would soon come in and the castle would come alive. The three of them made their way down, hiding behind a pillar when they almost bumped into another pair of guards, and soon emerged in a secluded part of the palace grounds. A thin line of purple graced the eastern sky, signaling the start of another day. The Goat-napper walked along the wall, patting the bricks. Without warning, he scaled the wall, with Doctor Dillamond still over a shoulder, and disappeared behind the wall. Fiyero quickly followed, and the figure before him had almost reached the nearest houses by the time he landed on the other side.

As Fiyero watched, the purposeful strides of the taller figure changed; it became more graceful, an almost unnoticeable swaying of the hips. At the last moment, just as it disappeared into the alley between two buildings, an orange tail with black stripes peeked out from a slit at the back of the robe and seemingly waved goodbye to Fiyero.

**AN : some of the description of the club that Avaric and Fiyero visited is based on the Philosophy Club in GM's novel. In the novel, the 7 were made up of Avaric, Boq, Tibbett, Crope, Pfannee and ShenShen. Glinda and Elphaba did not go.**

**AN : Elphaba will be back in the next chapter.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**AN I was editing this chapter when I have this overwhelming desire to write some fiyeraba (which is severely lacking in this fic so far). So I got side-tracked and started on a cheeky fiyeraba AU one-shot. The plan was to post that and this on the same day, but guess what? I overestimated myself ;) So here you have it - chapter 9, and no one-shot.**

"So… do you like children?"

"Your Ozness?" Fiyero could not hide the surprise in his voice.

The Wizard of Oz laughed as he pulled out his napkin and put on the table, signaling that he had finished his dinner. A servant came forward, the clattering kept to a minimum as he cleared the table. He went out of the room when he was done, not a single word spoken.

"It's just a simple question, Captain. You are now engaged. I'm sure that you have thought of what's coming next – marriage, starting a family of your own. There's nothing I'd love more than to see mini Glindas and little Arjiki boys running along the corridors of the palace."

Fiyero looked at the ruler. The Wizard had invited the captain to join him for dinner, an invitation which he was obliged to accept, no matter how tired and busy he was. They were at the last leg of their journey, the last night when the Wizard was not the ruler of Oz, but a retired businessman fulfilling his lifelong love for travelling. While it was a relaxing trip for the Wizard, the same could not be said for Fiyero. He was never more than a few steps behind the old man as the latter chatted with the citizens and played with the children in the marketplaces and town squares, his eyes constantly on the lookout for danger, his hand never far from the weapon under his coat. When the Wizard had retired for the night (with four guards taking turns to protect him), Fiyero would be busy going through the next day's itinerary, making sure that all the security arrangements were in place. The journey brought them to several places in Gillikin, but they never stopped at Shiz, the one place that Fiyero wanted to visit. He wondered if he would return to the city with news of another attack attributed to the Wicked Witch of the West. The thought brought a frown to his face.

The Wizard misinterpreted the expression.

"I know what you are thinking, Captain. You think that the two of you are still young. You're busy with your career. You're too busy to plan for a wedding. But time waits for no one. She's not going to stay young forever. She's not going to wait for you forever. You'll regret it for the rest of your life if you lose her."

The Wizard looked around the room, at the luxurious suite lit softly by crystal chandeliers, at the furniture made of the rarest wood with gold rims and covered with silk table runners. He looked down at his wrinkled hands, bare except for a golden ring set with a large emerald stone. A look of longing descended on his face, a faraway look in his eyes, as if he was somehow brought back to the time when he was young and his hands were still strong and smooth.

He looked up at the handsome young man at his table after a while, a sad smile on his face, his eyes slightly red.

"No amount of power or riches will make up for losing the love of your life, Captain. Death is not the only thing that can take her away," he said, his voice weary. The Wizard looked away, suddenly aware that he had perhaps said too much. His eyes landed at the door that led to the bedroom. "I'm tired, Captain. I think I'll sleep early tonight." The old man struggled to stand up, as if the short conversation had drained him both emotionally and physically.

Fiyero went to his aid. He gestured to the guards that were standing in the shadows as he assisted the Wizard to the entrance of his bedroom.

"I'll take my leave, Your Ozness. Have a good night. We'll set off tomorrow after breakfast for the Emerald City."

* * *

Fiyero did not return to news of another attack by the Witch. Instead, he found ten of his men preparing to go on an assignment. There was a tip-off, a sighting of the Wicked Witch of the West, and they were going to Munchkinland to investigate. Madame Morrible had asked his second-in-command to lead the group in Fiyero's absence. His expression alternated between anticipation and consternation as he brought Fiyero up-to-speed on the arrangements. On the table was a map of Munchkinland, the location where the Witch was spotted marked with a fat red cross. Fiyero knew that area very well. It was a forest near to the Yellow Brick Road, near to Boq's home, the place where he had last seen her. He told his men to delay their departure by an hour; he would join them.

He had to.

* * *

They arrived at the small Munchkin town square in the late afternoon. There was no fanfare, but everyone could recognise the starched emerald green uniform of the Gale Force with its gold seams, the golden armbands with the letters O and Z intertwined. The townsfolk stared, wondering what could have brought the Wizard's elite force to their small town. The menfolk looked at the soldiers warily, while the womenfolk shepherded their children home before they closed their windows and shut the doors.

There was only one inn in the town, a tiny place with only four rooms. Fiyero booked them all, the innkeeper readily agreed to his suggestion that they would squeeze three men into some of the bigger rooms that was actually meant for two each though he was paying for each headcount. He made arrangements for dinner to be served at evening time.

"What brings the Gale Force to our humble town, Captain, if I may be so bold as to ask?" the innkeeper asked respectfully, interpreting the insignia on his uniform.

"Just a routine exercise," he gave a smile that meant business. "There's nothing to worry about." He was in uniform, and a Gale Force captain did not loiter at a reception counter and gossip about the job that his men were about to undertake.

The soldiers crowded into the rooms. Some of them dived for the beds, while others dropped their belongings and went out immediately in search of entertainment (they would find none). Tonight, they would have a hearty meal and a good sleep, but come tomorrow they would leave the town and go into the nearby forest, spending at least a week there.

The Captain ensured that his men were settled in before he changed out of his uniform and sneaked out from the back door in search for a ride.

The ride dropped him off outside Boq's farm.

It was evening, and smoke could be seen coming out of the chimney, telling him that dinner was almost ready.

Their previous parting had been awkward. Boq had sent him to town, but the Munchkin did not say anything throughout the journey except for a brief 'Take care' when Fiyero hopped off the cart. As Fiyero walked to the door, he thought of what he should say when the door opened. He had his speech ready; he would greet his old friend, apologize for his behavior the last time they were together and listen to whatever Boq had to say before he asked his questions. He had even bought some cakes and a bottle of the finest wine that he could find in town to prove his sincerity.

Fiyero knocked on the door. It opened after a while, revealing the Munchkin.

Boq's expression turned to horror the moment he saw who was at the door.

"I don't know anything!" he exclaimed. He pressed his palms on the door, scrambling to close it.

Fiyero stuck out a foot and jammed the door before it could close completely. Boq grunted as he gave the door an extra push, but Fiyero was much stronger, and a single shove with his hand was all he needed to push the door open. The force sent Boq backwards and he threw up his hands in surprise, presenting a comical sight of the short man with one leg in the air and two hands flailing. Fiyero shot out a hand, but the Munchkin was too scared to grab his hand and handed on his butt instead. He looked up at Fiyero, his eyes wild, as if the Munchkinlander monster that he had always dreamt of when he was a child had materialized in front of him.

The reaction of his friend caught him off guard and his well-planned speech flew out of the window. He could only remember the question that was utmost in his mind.

"Boq, what is her name?"

* * *

Fiyero sat on the doorstep of Boq's house, alone. He was so engrossed in his own thoughts that he did not notice when the door opened and Boq came out, a mug in his hand. He shoved the mug under the Fiyero's nose, and the Arjiki was assaulted by the smell of Boq home-brewed Munchkinland beer, made using a secret recipe passed down from his great-great-grandfather. Fiyero shook his head.

No thanks.

"Are the children asleep?" he asked.

Boq nodded. "Soon. Milla's with them."

The two sat next to each other, looking out at the darkness. Boq stood up after a while and walked one round along the perimeter of the house. He sat down when he came back, satisfied that there was no one lurking around. Still, the Munchkin whispered his next words.

"So this is about Elphaba?"

Elphaba.

The name did not ring a bell. He said her name silently. It felt comfortable, an uncanny familiarity that he could not explain when his tongue rolled around the letters, as if he had whispered the name thousands of times before, as if he had called out to her many times before, but he knew that he had not.

Elphaba.

"Boq," he spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. "I know I should ask this before. This may not make sense, but do I know her? I mean, have I met her before …" he waved his hand towards the direction of the shed where he had found her.

Boq laughed nervously as he took a sip from his beer. "Do you come all the way here just to ask me a trick question?"

Fiyero shook his head again.

Boq took another sip from his beer, drawing courage from it. "Officially, we are not supposed to know her. We are not supposed to speak of her again. Maybe she is not important to you, but I simply cannot pretend that she is never my friend, that I have never known her."

Fiyero reached out for the beer. It was just as he remembered, too bitter and too strong for his liking. He wondered how Boq could drink this on a regular basis without passing out. But he needed it for the moment.

"Indulge me, Boq. Tell me how we met, me and her, me and … Elphaba." His heart seemed to skip a beat and squeeze gently at the same time at the mention of her name.

Boq looked at Fiyero strangely.

"You mean you really don't remember?"

Fiyero looked at the beer. He did not know how to answer.

"You're strange, if you don't mind me saying. I mean, how can you totally forget about a person, and someone like _her_," Boq said, unable to kick the habit of not addressing the green girl by her name.

"I don't know," the prince admitted after a while. "I really don't know. Do you?"

Boq laughed nervously.

"So you really … don't remember?" he asked after a while.

Fiyero shook his head. He supposed his friend saw something in his expression under the faint light that he had brought out, for the Munchkin finally answered his question.

"It happened on the day you arrived at Shiz," he said, as if he was telling a story, trying to dissociate himself. "Your driver nearly knocked her down. I heard that you made some comments on her skin colour and she nearly chewed your head off."

Fiyero's eyebrows rose. He remembered the day he arrived at Shiz, meeting Glinda, but he had no memory of knocking down a girl, nor being shouted at by her. No girl had ever raised her voice at him, but, knowing her as he did, he was not surprised.

"I supposed we all got together because of Glinda," Boq continued. "I mean, you are her boyfriend and she is her roommate…"

"What?" Now he was surprised. He had been to Glinda's room so many times, yet he did not remember seeing her. He tried to recall the layout of Glinda's room in Shiz. There were two beds in the room. The length of Glinda's bed was pushed against the wall opposite the door, next to the windows. She liked it that way, to be able to look at the scenery outside the windows. He remembered Glinda's side of the room. She took up more than half of the room and almost all the cupboards. Her side of the room was decorated with lots of pink. Even her study table which was next to her bed was painted pink. The door could not be opened fully; her roommate's bed was behind it when it opened. The bed was also far away from the windows, as if the occupant did not want anyone to see her. He vaguely remembered that the other study table was at the foot of the second bed, the dark wood and thick books complementing the dark bed sheets. He remembered that Glinda became the sole occupant of the room soon after and the second bed and table were removed from the room, but for the life of him, he could not remember why.

He remembered the countless times when he picked Glinda up for a date, or when he spent an afternoon in the room with her. He wondered if Elphaba had remained in the room, or if she always disappeared before he turned up. Did she envy Glinda like the other girls on campus? Did she ever peep at him when he kissed Glinda and hide her blush behind a book? Did he ever have a conversation with her, or did he ignore her, pretending that she did not exist, was inconsequential, and insignificant.

What a shallow, stupid person he was.

"You alright?" Boq asked, a hand on his shoulder.

Fiyero rubbed his face with his palms.

"Yeah," he lied. Boq continued his story.

"When she was gone, Madame Morrible gathered everyone in the school hall and told us that we must not tell anyone that she was from Shiz. We must not mention her or her name anymore. I think she is afraid of the negative publicity if the public ever finds out she was from Shiz. Madame Morrible threatened us with expulsion if we mentioned her again. She… you know, she had those tiktoks, and there was nowhere we could talk about her without knowing if one of those mean things were eavesdropping on us. The first few months were dreadful, but Glinda helped. Despite losing her best friend, she was all happy and perky. Whenever one of us mentioned her name, she would switch the topic immediately. I suppose it is much easier for you since you are not really close to her, but our group is just not the same after that."

"So… I know her? I've talked to her before?"

"Of course. You can't date a girl and not talk to her roommate. I don't know, but I think you guys quarreled or something. The two of you just go all out to avoid each other after a while. There was once, one of those rare times when I managed to pull her out of the library for lunch. We went looked for Glinda and found her with you. You had this funny expression on your face and you just excused yourself and left. You looked as if you were afraid of her."

"When was that?"

"That was after the Animal Banns, around the time when Doctor Dillamond was… you know…. I heard that she froze the entire class and took a Lion cub away. Maybe you guys quarreled over the banns or something. You know how much passionate she is about that subject. How can you not remember any of this?"

Boq was thirsty from all the talking and he gestured for his beer. Fiyero passed the mug back to him and he brought the mug to his mouth greedily, only to find dismay.

"You've finished everything!" He turned the mug upside down and watched the last drop fell onto the ground. "I need another drink. What about you?"

Fiyero nodded. He would wake up with a terrible hungover the next morning, but the hell with it.

Boq came back soon with two mugs of beer. Fiyero accepted one gratefully and guzzled half of it. His head swam, but it had been swimming since Boq started talking.

"So why didn't you say anything when we were here? How can Milla and you just accept that I am treating her like a stranger, like a criminal?"

Boq shrugged. "You didn't treat her like a stranger. You took care of her, much better than what Milla and I could. But you're the Captain of the Guards too. We can't expect a reunion party and plenty of group hugs. Did you realise that you have not talked about her in years? We just thought that you have been brainwashed by whatever you've heard in the Emerald City. It's not that difficult to start doubting yourself when everyone else tells you that you're wrong."

Fiyero finished his beer.

"Boq, I have to ask you something. We have received a tip-off that she was seen in the forest nearby." He pointed to the general direction where he had come from. "Is she there?"

Boq's eyes grew impossibly large.

"I don't know anything." He shook his head furiously. "You're the Gale Force. I don't know anything."

Fiyero sighed.

"Boq, I am not here to harm her. But some of my men are here. We will go into the forest tomorrow. I won't let them find her. But I want to see her. Is she there? Does she have a hideout nearby? If not, where can I find her? Trust me, I don't want to harm her. I will never harm her."

"You did," the Munchkin reminded him, his eyes narrowing.

"I will never harm her again," Fiyero promised. "I want to see her. There… there is some information that I need to pass to her." A little white lie. "Please, is she nearby?"

"Information?"

"Yes. It's seems that someone has been making up stories about her, accusing her of crimes that she did not commit. I need to see her. I need to know the truth."

Boq gave him a look that said I-told-you. He answered after a while. "I don't know. She never told me anything. She is always vague. I suppose," he shrugged. "You can't blame her. Who can she trust? She can't trust me." He looked at his ex-classmate. "And I don't want to know where she is. It's too much of a responsibility for me. I can't be trusted to keep her whereabouts a secret. I'll spill everything the moment the Gale Force threatens Milla or the children. She's my friend, but I can't sacrifice my family for her beliefs."

Fiyero nodded with understanding.

"But…" the Munchkin added. "The last time… she was already very weak when she flew here. She couldn't have come from very far."

* * *

The soldiers trampled through the forests, making far more noise than necessary. They had been searching for three days, going deeper and deeper into the forest. His men were tired, fatigued, and they missed the comforts of their homes and their love ones (or their vices, for those with unsavory habits). Some of the soldiers took it out on the flora, grinding new shoots underneath their boots and hacking at the thin branches of massive trees with their knives for no reason. Others were jittery, spooked by the sounds in the forest, waving their rifles at the slightest movement. One of his men even tried to shoot a green bird that flew out of its nest when it was disturbed, screaming his lungs out. He thought that it was the Witch jumping out of a tree, trying to kill him. His bullet split the truck of a young tree more than ten feet away.

Fiyero did not mind all the noises made by them. It warned everyone that the Gale Force was in the vicinity, and he was glad for that. He had told Boq that he did not want his men to find her, and he meant it. He wanted to find her. He wanted to see her again. But he did not want to see her here, not when there were so many soldiers with him, all of them armed with more than a weapon each, all of them believing that she was wicked and deserved to die.

They stopped for lunch at a small clearing with sandy ground and bare of grass. The men dropped their bags on the ground unceremoniously, and were tearing at their food rations even before Fiyero gave them the permission to do so. The captain walked towards a tree and put his bag down. He leaned against the tree and was chewing his food when he looked down and noticed a smudged mark on the soil next to his boot.

It was a partial oval, like the outline of a boot, but smaller, like a girl's, facing outward. An imprint made when the girl leaned against the tree, perhaps to take a breather (though he could never imagine her as someone who would run out of breath easily). He turned and faced the tree. The tree was wide, its bark cracked and peeling. He took a step backward and sideways and looked at the bark from another angle. It took him a while before he saw it, a black thread snarled by the peeling bark, almost unnoticeable against the dark brown of the truck. He would not have noticed it without his sharp eyes and the years of experience at the Thousand Year Grassland. He made sure that none of his men was watching him before he pulled out the thread and put it in his pocket. He stepped on her shoe print and grinded his boot against the soil to remove the trace of her presence.

It was too early to halt the hunt.

He took out his map.

"Gentlemen," he called out to his men when they had finished their lunch. "We're going to expand our search."

* * *

He split his men into two groups and ordered them to go to opposite directions, to places that he determined would not be suitable for her. He knew that it was wrong, but he did not want them to come upon her by chance. He instructed them to go back to town at the end of the three days and made their way back to the Emerald City, with or without him. Fiyero moved deeper into the forest, his progress slowing as the terrain turned steeper. He moved steadily, his eyes scanning the surroundings, trying to look for anything that told him she was here. But there were no more boot marks, no more frayed threads from a black dress. The chirping of the crickets and birds and the sharp cracks of the dried leaves and twigs as he stepped on them were the only sounds he heard. His ascent came to a stop when his path ended abruptly. The surrounding was dark, the sunlight filtered by the tall trees with their long branches and lush canopy.

He approached the trees near to the edge. There were long thick vines hanging from the branches. Barely two steps beyond that was a sharp drop; the side of the hill had broken off some time ago, creating a cliff. Fiyero held onto one of the thicker vines, tugging it to test its strength before he inched closer to the edge and looked down. The slope was steep, punctuated by gnarled roots and sharp, twisted branches. The remnants of the avalanche could still be seen, the broken trees, rocks and branches littering the ground below. A series of rocky outcrops punched through the debris. Short thick shrubs bordered the area, followed by clusters of tall trees that were so common in Munchkinlander forests. Fiyero kicked a rock and it tumbled below, breaking into several small pieces as it tossed and bounced its way down. He was tugging at the vine again when a voice came from somewhere behind him.

"I won't do that if I am you, Captain. It's a terrible way to die."

Elphaba.

He spun around, trying to face the direction where the voice came from. Her voice echoed throughout the forest; it seemed to come from everywhere, from the trees, from the leaves, from every molecule in the air. He moved forward and turned one complete round, looking at his surroundings, but she was nowhere to be seen.

"Where are you?" he asked, wondering if she could hear the relief in his voice. "We need to talk."

"Oh really? What happened to the crowd in Emerald City? Did you finally lose interest in their mindless babbles?"

He did not realise how much he missed her sarcasm until now.

He took a step forward, hoping that it was one step closer to her.

"You're always more interesting than them." Another step, followed by yet another. "So how have you been? Can I see you?"

A cackle. "Captain, do you know how rich I will be if I get an Ozian penny every time a soldier asked to see me?" her voice replied indulgently. "Sorry, but I don't do wishes."

"What do I need to do for you to show yourself?" He stepped behind a tree and looked up. She was not there. Nor was she behind the next tree.

"Oh, we're negotiating now, aren't we?" He could hear the lightness in her voice. He imagined that twitch at the corner of her lips as she said that. He could not help but smiled.

"If that's what you call it. So what do you fancy? I can't get you the moon and the stars, but I know of a few places where we can get good food and talk the whole night. Or do you prefer to dance the whole night?" Another step to his right. There was no sight of her.

"I'm appalled by your lack of sincerity, Captain. I am expecting more than that. Just the price of a meal for the chance to arrest me?" The mocking tone was back. Wrong answer, Captain. He nearly slapped himself for misinterpreting her lighthearted tone. He should have known better.

He squint his eyes and scanned the top of the trees but was unable to find a green girl hiding there.

"Elphaba, please. I am not here to arrest you. I just want to talk to you. And see how you are."

Her voice was bitter when it returned. "Captain, I never know that you are a sentimental man. Elphaba no longer exists. She died years ago."

He shook his head as he weaved around another tree, his hand on the bark, as if he was performing a ritualistic dance during the autumn solstice. How could she say that she was dead when she was so alive? "No, she's alive," he spoke to the trees. "I have talked to her. Sweet girl. Loves to read. She's abit stubborn though. She used to have this beautiful long hair, and then some idiot suggested that she cut it. He should have kept his mouth shut."

The leaves rustled softly, kissed by a breeze. Or were they laughing along with her?

He stared at the sky, wondering where she was. Slowly, he let his bag slid off his shoulders. He took out his gun and threw it to the nearest undergrowth. He then bent down and retrieved the Arjiki dagger strapped to his right ankle and threw it in the direction of the cliff. He raised both his hands when that was done.

"See? I'm totally unarmed. I can't shoot you or stab you. Can you please show yourself? I promise that I won't hurt you. Vinkun's honour."

A pause, almost as if she was considering his offer.

"Goodbye, Captain." She made up her mind.

"Where are you going?" he asked. He could almost hear her shrugged when she replied.

"Well, Captain, excuse me while I go and kill some people and steal some goats." Something flashed above him, cutting off the sunlight momentarily. He spun around, and almost missed the dark figure as it plunged over the cliff.

Fiyero rushed to the edge, his boots teetering at the edge of the cliff as he pulled himself short, his hand grabbing one of the vines for support. Below him, the figure dove downwards, a suicidal flight that was guaranteed to end in a gruesome death until she pulled her broom up at the last moment. A gust of wind pulled her cloak taut, spanning it like the wings of a black pfenix as she cut across the narrow distance between the cliff and outcrops, never slowing down. Within a heartbeat, she reached the trees on the other side and disappeared from his sight.

He never quite knew what made him did what he did next; if it was the exhilaration at seeing her fly, or her caustic comment on his lack of sincerity, or simply the fear that if he stayed there, if he did not do anything, he would never see her again. He let go of the vine, acting out without further thoughts.

Fiyero closed his eyes and leaped.

**AN **

**Chapter 10 will be late - exams is coming soon (not mine but still...) and I need to plan for my June holiday before it ends up as a disaster (did I say that I am going to watch Wicked when I am in Perth? ;)).**

**My apologies if some stuff does not make sense. The final editing was done while juggling work and explaining Science concepts at the same time.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

The first thing that came to him when he regained conscious was the pain. It was everywhere, overwhelming his senses, as if his body had smashed into hundreds of pieces and then pieced back together badly. Worst of all was the pain from his right leg, so sharp and deep that it felt like someone had stabbed his leg with a white hot knife and twisted it to keep the wound open. The pain radiated from the source up to his torso and down to his toes, wrapping him so tightly that he could barely breathe.

He shut his eyes and tried to get some air into his lungs. The first gulp of air exploded in his lungs and he coughed, sending more spasms of excruciating pain (if that was possible) throughout his body.

He turned to his side and another shot of pain went through his right leg. He blacked out momentarily, and when he came to, where was a puddle of what looked suspiciously like regurgitated food next to his face. He grimaced, and rolled back on his back to avoid the vomit and closed his eyes again.

Oz, what a dumb thing to do.

He let out a short laugh, which sounded more like a gasp, amused by his own stupidity. This was most senseless thing he had ever done to get the attention of a girl. He thought that he had left his brainlessness behind years ago, like an awkward caterpillar that had morphed into a beautiful butterfly, forever changed. That was obviously not true. He just needed the right girl to come along.

Fiyero opened his eyes after a while. He could see that was still daytime - he could not have lost conscious for long. He turned his head to the other side slowly, taking in the surroundings while trying to ignore the pain. He breathed slowly, taking in shallow breaths, dimly aware that he could have fractured at least one rib. The earth was slightly damp, and it was only then that he was aware of the taste of soil (besides the vomit) in his mouth. A large, dark figure appeared above him just then and blocked out most of the light.

A bear.

He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see the animal. He had not anticipated that he would end his life as the meal for a large carnivore.

He felt a furry paw touch his cheek, its sharp claws pressing on the grazes on his face. A pat on his face, and then,

"Wake up."

He opened his eyes to find the face of the Bear inches from his, with what could pass for a smile, though the wide grin and sharp teeth could mean simply that the Bear was happy to have found his next meal.

The Bear blinked at him and took a step back. Fiyero took the opportunity to sit up. Another shot of pain went through his leg and he nearly fell back. He bit his lip to stop the cry from coming out.

"You're hurt," the Bear said matter-of-factly, as he poked a claw at Fiyero's leg. Then pain shot through his body like a thunder bolt.

"Thanks," Fiyero replied sarcastically when the pain subsided to a more bearable level. He looked at the Bear when the tears went away. He was a cub, dressed in a tattered shirt and shorts. A Bear, and one who was not smart enough to know that he should keep his mouth shut and to avoid humans.

"What's your name?" Fiyero asked.

The Bear looked at him.

"Acorn." Fiyero had to stifle a laugh. Acorn? He definitely was not the size of an acorn. "Who named you Acorn?"

"My parents," Acorn answered seriously. "They said I was the size of an acorn when I was born."

Fiyero knew without a doubt that the Bear's parents needed glasses.

"Where are they?" His eyes darted around. Just because Junior did not want to eat him did not mean that his parents held the same view.

"They're dead. Killed by soldiers. Soldiers in green like you." The Bear gestured to his Gale Force uniform.

"I… I'm sorry," he stammered.

"It's not you who kill them," the Bear said wisely.

Fiyero looked at his injuries. There were bruises and abrasions all over. He had rolled up his sleeves when he was climbing the hill and the skin on his arms was scraped raw. His shirt was partially torn, the jagged tear revealing a cut diagonally across his chest, the blood warm on his torso. The pain on his shoulder hinted of a dislocation. He was sure that he had broken at least one rib. The right leg of his pants was ripped from calf to thigh, the whole area soaked dark. Under the dim light, he thought that he could see a long gash on his thigh. He tried to reposition himself to have a better view of the injury, but the movement jerked the injured leg and he fell onto the ground, little black dots swimming in his vision. He lay on the ground and tried to catch his breath.

"You need help," the Bear told him.

"Yeah." Understatement of the year. If he was lucky, it would take him two weeks to drag his body to the nearest town, give or take a few days. He should have thought carefully before he took that leap.

"Fae can help," the Bear suggested.

"Fae?" He imagined a large Sow with an apron around her waist.

"Fae. She's like you. But she is the colour of the leaves. She can fix you."

His heart missed a beat.

"Green skin? Black hair?"

Acorn nodded.

He could not believe his luck. And he could not believe that the Bear could be so stupid. What happened if it was not him but another Gale Forcer, someone who was loyal to the Wizard, who wanted to arrest her for her crimes, just like what he did a few months ago? But he could not hide the grin on his face.

"That will be great." He tried to cover up his enthusiasm unsuccessfully.

The Bear was a bit shorter than Fiyero, and even with his support, his injured leg dragged on the ground. Every single stone or twig, and the uneven ground sent a sharp pain from his leg to his body. The Bear jerked him up several times when his grip on the Arjiki slipped, adding to the score. He wondered if the Bear broke another rib with his rough handling. He almost blacked out a few times, but the darkness seemed to take a delight in teasing him, never completely taking him. He felt something warm on his skin, and he knew that the constant knocking had opened the wounds further.

"Are we there yet?" he asked when the pain lessened enough for him to form a coherent sentence.

The Bear looked at him as if he was stupid. "It's near if I take the shortest path. But now I have to take a longer route because of you. Plus, you are deadweight." He added accusingly.

That sentence took much of his energy and they moved on in silence for a while until Fiyero thought he heard something buzzing. He looked up and saw tiny insects buzzing around them.

Bees.

The prince groaned. He wondered which would be more painful; the pain from the existing wounds or the pain from bee stings.

Acorn chuckled though, and Fiyero wondered if the Bear had brain damage. That would explain why he was so trusting, even when he was wearing the same uniform as the soldiers who had killed his parents.

"They're our friends." He explained. "We're almost there."

The remaining journey seemed to pass faster with that information. Every time the darkness threatened to overwhelm him, he would think of her and those thoughts would push away the pain, albeit momentarily. He knew that they were reaching there soon; he could feel it in the enthusiasm of the Bear. Fiyero's right leg seemed to be caught by every single exposed root as they got closer to their destination, sending jarring pain throughout his body. They crossed an imaginary line and came to a small clearing. There were a few tree stumps and a large, dirty yellow canvas hung over two tree branches, forming an awning of some sort. At the back of the clearing was a little hut. There was no one around, until the door to the hut opened and a figure rushed toward them, a worried look on her green face.

* * *

Elphaba was busy. She had met up with a resistance member earlier to collect a fresh batch of supplies. It was less than what she had expected, but things were hard to come by nowadays, and she was grateful for the extra mile that the man had taken to get the herbs. There were times when she had to do without any medication for weeks, unable to help any injured Animal or person who passed by, unable to even help herself when the gunshot wound on her leg got infected, and it was something that she did not want to experience again. As she did a stock take on her supplies, her thoughts went back to the encounter that she had with _him_. She had spotted him on her way back from her meeting. He was in a seemingly suicidal mood, looking down a cliff and trying to gauge its depth.

He had called her Elphaba. It had been so long since someone called her by that name. But she was no longer that girl, no longer that young and naïve person who had so much hope for the future, who had so much faith in the Wizard. All it took was a short meeting to dash her dreams, to remove the rose tinted glasses and show her the horrors that she had been so blissfully unaware of. Just one simple session, to turn her world upside down and change her life forever.

He had called her Elphaba. And he had sounded so sincere in wanting to meet her.

He was the Captain of the Guards, for Oz's sake, a senior member of the Gale Force, she reminded herself. He answered to the Wizard. He had pledged his loyalty to the Wizard. He had let her go once, but no doubt he had since regretted that decision and wanted to redeem himself, to prove himself to the Wizard. He might be charming and polite, but weren't they all when they wanted something from her, when they wanted to make use of her to fulfill their own selfish agenda?

A bee flew in and handed on her knuckle. She flinched, surprised by the unexpected contact, and knocked a glass container off the table, and it was only her quick reflex that prevented it from smashing onto the ground below and breaking into pieces, spilling the contents within. She pushed the thoughts of him aside. He was distracting her from the job on hand, even when he was not here physically.

A few other bees flew in and tried to get her attention. She ignored them, but they buzzed around incessantly, swooping up and down, distracting her. She had found this colony of bees during one of her travels to Vinkus and had somehow persuaded them to let her cut down the branch where their hive was and brought it with her. They had been with her since, providing honey that she used for food and for healing. She talked to them sometimes and it seemed that they understood her, though she had to admit she did not understand their language, if they had one. She could only gauge what they were trying to say with their buzzing and the patterns that they made when they tried to communicate with her. Sometimes she thought that the bees were smarter than her. Most probably they _were_ smarter than her.

They were usually not so persistent unless there was something urgent. It could only mean one thing – someone was coming. But was it friend or foe?

She quickly put the bottles into a bag with a solid base. Her things were usually packed, ready for her to grab and go in a moment's notice. It was a habit, a good one, developed from years on the run.

The bees flew out the door, not to her broom which was next to the door, and Elphaba knew that she did not need to fly, which eliminate the possibility of soldiers. She was barely out of the door when she spotted Acorn coming through the forest surrounding their latest home, struggling as he half-carried what seemed to be an unconscious man. The basket of fruits that he had collected was slung across his chest, resting on his hip on the other side. Acorn always liked to roam around the forest, and Elphaba had instructed him to collect any fruits or herbs that he could find. The man's head hung low and his clothes were all muddy and bloody, but she knew immediately who he was even if she had not seen him barely an hour ago – the form and build was so familiar, always in her mind. His name caught in her throat and she rushed forward. Fiyero looked up at that moment and she thought she saw a weak smile on his face before he collapsed into her arms.

She struggled to bring him into the house, barking instructions to the Bear at the same time. The hut was found abandoned by them a few months ago, the best that they had lived in for a long time. She laid him on her bed and then lifted his right leg which was still dangling outside the bed. He groaned in pain, and it was only then that she noticed the large gaping wound and the warm blood on her hands. She went to the countertop and shook a handful of leaves from a container into the mortar on the table. A quick round of pounding and grinding with a pestle crushed the leaves, its juice oozing out. It filled less than a tablespoon. It was definitely not enough, but she needed to ration her supplies.

"Chew this," she instructed as she went back to the bed and lifted his head slightly. She noticed the questioning look in his pain-glazed eyes and answered his question.

"It's pinlobble leaves. I need to stitch up the wound before you bleed yourself dry," she told him.

"Elphaba…" he called her name weakly. "We need to talk…"

She shoved the spoon into his mouth. "You can talk when you are done with your dying."

Elphaba took out a pair of scissors and sliced the right leg of his pants, pulling the fabric back to reveal the extent of the wound. It was not as deep as she feared, but the wound was long and for a moment she wondered if she would be able to save the leg. The Bear came back just then with a basin of water and a towel and she pushed the morbid thought aside as she put on a pair of long gloves that reached to her elbows. It was not the time to indulge in fear. She wrung the towel dry and immediately went about cleaning the skin around the wound. When that was done, she stripped off her gloves and took out her needle and limited supply of suture thread. A simple spell lit up the rarely used candle on the table.

"This is going to hurt, Captain," she warned him as she passed the needle through the flame.

"Bring it on," the man on her bed mumbled as his eyes began to close. "I'm an Arjiki warrior." She put it down to the delirious effect of the narcotic leaves.

Elphaba took a deep breath before she placed a hand gently on his leg, ready to tighten her grip any moment. She nodded to the Bear, and Acorn positioned himself next to the bed. She had done this many times before and knew what would happen once she pushed the needle through the skin.

It was so much easier to stitch when he stopped screaming and thrashing.

* * *

Fiyero regained conscious to a stinging sensation, cold and damp on his face. He felt the texture of a rough spun towel across his cheeks before the same gentle touches wiped his lips. The tenderness made the sting on the abrasions and cuts on his face bearable. The touch went away, and then there was the sound of water. He opened his eyes slightly and saw Elphaba next to him, wringing a small towel to remove the excess water with her gloved hands. She turned and he quickly closed his eyes, almost letting out a contented sigh when she wiped his chin and his neck. The pain seemed to go away with each gentle touch.

"He's awake," a voice said from the other side and the towel froze. And waited.

Thank you so much, Acorn.

He opened his eyes. She was looking at him, a displeased look on her face.

"Hey." He tried to work up a smile, surprised that he had sounded so weak. He must have looked like death warmed over. She waited for a moment before she threw the towel at his face and peeled off the long gloves. Maybe not.

Fiyero struggled to sit up with his good arm. His ribs still hurt but not badly. He looked at his right leg. It was still swollen, but the wound had been cleaned and stitched. The edges were red and speckled with dried blood, but the pain had subsided into a dull burning pain that he knew would flare up once the painkiller went off. She took a quick glance at him and turned away just as quickly, her face turning a few shades darker.

She muttered something about his clothes and his wounds, and it was only then that he realized that he was not clothed. Long stripes of what was previously his uniform, coated with mud, blood and twigs, littered the floor. Instead of his uniform, a grey blanket covered him, or rather, gathered around his hips, having fallen when he had sat up. She had cleaned him up when he had passed out from the pain. The blanket covered his left leg, but left his right leg with the stitches exposed. It left nothing much to imagination.

She came to him, her face still flush, mumbling something about checking for broken bones.

"Take a deep breath. Do you feel any pain?" she asked. He told her that his ribs hurt, and she formed the same conclusion as him after a simple check.

"There's nothing much I can do about it. We'll let it heal on its own," she told him. He liked the way she said 'we'.

The same could not be said for his shoulder. She made quick work of it, manipulating it back to its normal position while the painkiller was still in effect. He hissed at the pain.

She pressed her fingers on his back methodically, her other hand supporting him across his chest. He was aware of how close she was, her breath warm on his shoulder. He tilted his head slightly and studied her through the haze of pain. She seemed to have lost weight since he had last seen her, her cheekbones more pronounced, her chin sharper. There was this thoughtful look on her face, the lines on her forehead deepening as she went through the steps. Her hair was longer, curling slightly around her shoulders, calling for him to brush them away. His fingers twitched on their own, aching to touch her.

"You're very lucky you didn't break your spine," she said without a trace of sarcasm as she completed her examination. He did not answer, and she looked up at him and her eyes widened at the look in his eyes. She took a step back as a flush crept up her face.

"So do you do this often? Saving people?" He tried to put her at ease.

"I don't usually save idiots," she answered with a slight frown, as if she did not understand why she had saved him.

He wanted to laugh, but perhaps he had really lost too much blood, or maybe he had kept his head in that awkward position for too long, and a wave of dizziness sent him tilting sideways. She caught him again, her arms around her to prevent him from falling off the bed.

Leaves. Fresh leaves and herbs. His eyes fluttered close, the faint scent surrounding him as he leaned heavily against her, waiting for the world to slowly right itself. He thought that he could hear her heart beat surround him, slow and steady, resonating through his body.

It ended way too soon.

"You should rest, Captain," she said as she slowly eased him onto the bed.

"You screamed much more than most people," Acorn, who had been quiet for some time, contributed.

Every man should have his own Bear to keep his ego in check.

"And cover up," the Bear added as he followed Elphaba out of the room.

* * *

"So what is Acorn's story?" he asked. The blood loss and unceasing pain had left him weak, and he seemed to spend a lot of his time sleeping. When he was awake, he stared at the ceiling, trying to decipher the sounds around him. Elphaba and Acorn took care of him, the former taking her job seriously and the latter, surprisingly, doing a pretty good job for a Cub. He had been here for days, but he had not seen anyone beside the two of them. From the sounds outside, he estimated at most four persons, including the green girl and the Bear. Sometimes, he would hear one-sided conversation between her or Acorn and someone else. He wondered who was that third party, but that person or Animal never appeared in the house. He had asked her about the size of the household, and she had deadpanned that there was a large troop of resistance soldiers just behind the house, but she was not going to show him the army, for none of them liked to wash soiled pants. Of course he could attempt to get out of the hut, but the idea of displeasing her, and what came after that, kept him in check. He would cap his curiosity, if only to coax a few more words, and if he was lucky, smiles, from her.

"He said that his parents were killed by the Gale Force," he added when she did not reply.

"Have you ever killed a defenceless Animal, Captain?" she asked as she pulled him to an upright position.

"Thank goodness no," he said. He kept his head down as he let the vertigo passed, trying hard not to lean against her. He knew what it meant. He had lost too much blood, he needed more than the fruits and vegetables that she served, and she could not cook; the smoke from a fire could be seen for miles. He lifted his head the moment he could and flashed her a smile, hoping that she would dismiss the symptom. He was wrong.

"You need help, Captain."

"You're helping," he told her.

She shook her head. "You need more food, better food to recover. Red meat, dairy, grains. I don't have a cow. I can't start a fire, it's worse than lighting a beacon."

"Just give me time. I'll recover. I'm tough." He put on his best persuasive smile.

She shook her head again.

"Let's go to Boq's place then. We can kill that noisy cow of his and kill two birds with one stone," he quipped, and was rewarded immediately by a faint smile which faded just as quickly.

She did not push him further, but proceeded to check on his wounds, her expression grave, her eyes clinical. She had not stitched the wound across his chest, preferring to let it heal on its own, and he had scratched it unintentionally last night and reopened the wound. There was blood on his skin, staining his tattoos.

Fiyero had gone back to Vinkus when he had graduated from Shiz, and one of the elders in the tribe had spent a few days tattooing him, completing the design to indicate that he had come of age. The blue diamonds now curved from his face to his arms and chest and below like a meandering river and ended at his feet. He knew that she had seen the whole design when she tended to his injuries. He had noticed her stealing quick glances at them when she thought that he was not looking. She put on a glove and wet a rag to wipe the blood. He hitched his breath at her gentle touch, his injuries forgotten; it felt as if she was tracing the diamonds with her finger, trying to read the meaning behind the pattern. She withdrew her hand, misinterpreting his reaction as pain, but he caught her wrist.

She froze.

"Elphaba, you have not asked me why I am here."

"Acorn brought you here," she replied, but her eyes were darting around as if she was an animal in a cage, avoiding his eyes.

"I mean, why I jumped."

"Did someone drop you on your head when you were a child?" she deadpanned.

He laughed but got serious again. He let go of her hand, and was glad when she did not move away.

"Elphaba, can you tell me what you are doing in the middle of the forest?"

"Doing what witches usually do. Plan, plot and scheme," came her quiet answer as she gazed at her own hands.

"You're lying. You are not the evil witch that you want me to believe. I don't know what you have been doing, but do you know that they are accusing you of doing so many things, crimes that I know you didn't commit?"

She lifted her eyes and looked at him, her face unreadable.

"What do you know, Captain? Maybe I did do them. Afterall, killing and destroying is second nature to a witch."

For Oz's sake, why was she being so stubborn? How could he help her if she did not tell him anything? Why did she have to keep condemning herself, keep portraying herself as a wicked witch when both of them knew that she was anything but that? Fiyero wanted to shake her until she came to her senses. Oz, he wanted to kiss her until she came to her senses. He wanted to be mad at her, to give up on her, but somehow he knew that he would not be able to walk out the door even if his leg was capable of doing so, even if his life depended on it. He took a deep breath and tried again.

"No, you didn't. The timing. The methods. The style. They don't fit," he told her. "You could have let me bleed to death, but you didn't. I'm not your enemy, Elphaba. I can help you if you tell me the truth. Why do you let them smear your name? Why don't you come out and let everyone know the truth?"

"What makes you think that what everyone knows is not the truth, Captain?"

"Elphaba -"

"Knowing my name does not make you a friend."

"It does not make me your enemy either. And it's Fiyero. I know you didn't forget my name. Boq told me the strangest thing about you. About us. He said that we used to know each other, that we are friends. I tried, but I cannot recall a single thing about you… It just doesn't make sense." He shook his head before he continued. "How can I forget someone like you?"

The green girl did not reply. She did not even blink, but there was something, a softening in her eyes.

"How can I forget every single moment I had with you?" he asked.

Fiyero reached out tentatively, his fingers curled, afraid that any sudden movement would scare her away. His fingers brushed against her cheek, and he knew that it was a mistake the moment she shrank back as if she was seared by his touch.

She backed off, almost tripping over her own feet as her back hit the table

"Is this some kind of trap, Captain? Some kind of game? I'm not stupid to fall for this," she snarled as her fingers gripped the counter top behind her.

"No, it's not –" he gave up on words, and tried to get out of the bed instead, trying to shift his useless leg. There was only one thing in his mind - to go to her, to pull her into his arms and somehow convince her that he was not playing some kind of sick game. A shot of excruciating pain shot up the right side of his body the moment his foot touched the ground, and he bit his lower lip to stop the cry from coming out.

He sensed, rather than saw, her came toward him as her nursing instinct kicked in, and that was when he made his second mistake. He turned, and their eyes locked. He saw the pain in her eyes, the hurt, the way her hands froze in the mid-air as if she did not know what to do next, was afraid of taking the next step. It tore at his heart, and there was nothing he wanted to do more at that moment than to pull her into his arms and kiss the pain away.

"Elphaba-"

She fled.

* * *

He waited for her.

He could have waited for her in the house, on the bed. Instead, he took the only chair in the house outside, using it first as an improvised walker and then as a chair. He sat right outside the door before the blazing sun persuaded him to move under the makeshift awning. He would have searched for her in the forest if he had an idea where she could be, but Acorn was not helpful. He sat there, watching as the shadows grew from long to short as the sun reached overhead and then long again. He only went into the house when he needed to sleep and came out again the moment he woke up.

"Fae will be mad when she finds out that you are not resting," the Bear said once as he went about doing his business.

Fiyero folded his arms in defiance, as if sheer obstinacy would bring her back.

* * *

The two soldiers moved noisily in the forest, grumbling loudly. The search party was formed hastily when nearest guard post found a mysterious note about a Captain held captive. A flurry of telegrams between them and the Emerald City followed, and they were told that Captain Tiggular from the Gale Force had not been seen for days; he did not return from an assignment. They were given the instructions from Emerald City to search for the missing captain.

The soldiers moved haphazardly, their dog pulling one of them along. It stopped at a pile of fallen leaves and sniffed at the pile for a long time. The soldier pulled hard at the leash. It had not rained for a few weeks, and yet it took him a while before he noticed the dried vomit under the leaves. It took him even longer to notice the dried blood on the ground, leading off to the distance.

"Blood," the soldier commented as his companion joined him. "Animal blood or human blood?"

"So where's the body?" His companion asked, laughing nervously.

"He could be still alive," he said grudgingly. A dead body would mean that they could wrap up their work that very instant.

The dog sniffed around them and started to growl softly. Without warning, it tugged at the leash and lifted its forelegs as if it was trying to climb onto the air, barking ferociously at unseen foes. The men looked around, spooked by the canine's reaction but there was nothing suspicious around them. The dog continued to bark and growl and it took them a while to calm it down. What now, they looked at each other.

"We'll follow the blood trail," one of them suggested.

The soldiers pulled the dog to the beginning of the blood trail and let it sniffed at the dried blood. They would try to follow the trail by sight, but the trail could disappear after a while and they would need the dog's keen sense of smell then. They set off, oblivious to the fact that someone was watching them from above.

* * *

She flew in, so fast that by the time he saw her she had landed on the middle of the clearing. She stopped at the sight of him, and then followed a wide arc to the house, away from him, her eyes averted.

She spoke a single word to Acorn and the bear sprang into action.

Fiyero scrambled out of the chair and swiveled it on one leg to turn it around before he used it as a crunch, clumsily making his way to the hut, trying to ignore the pain on his leg. He entered the room, in time to see her filled up one bag and starting on another.

She cut him off before he could open his mouth.

"Your men are on their way."

His men? What are they doing here? Weren't they supposed to leave the forest and go back to the Emerald City? Had they somehow trailed him without him knowing?

"But Elphaba, I didn't ask them to follow me, I swear!" Fiyero stumbled to the counter, too fast, and the whole world spun around him. She was busy packing, clearing the table and putting the items into the bag. He wanted to grab her by her shoulders, grab her hands, stopped her from doing whatever she was doing and convinced her that he did not do it; he did not get his men to track her, he did not betray her. The room seemed to tilt left and right, and Fiyero clung on to the countertop to stop his world from turning black.

"Elphaba, please. I didn't do it," he pleaded, looking at her face, trying to gauge her expression. She paused for a while, just a moment as she pursed her lips.

"It doesn't matter," she muttered, not looking at him.

She moved to another part of the counter, packing more things. He hobbled after her painfully, using the countertop as support.

"Elphaba, look at me, please. I didn't do this; I didn't get them to follow my trail. I came to find you, but it's just me. Please believe me." He managed to catch up with her just as she reached for the mortar and pestle that was on the table. She paused, her hand on the stone, while her other hand rested on the counter, and he took the opportunity to grab the hand that was nearer to him, holding it against him, his chest heaving. She looked at him in surprise, and then turned her head away again, looking at a point somewhere to the left of the mortar.

"Look at me. I won't be ignored like that." He tightened his grip on her.

She turned slowly, finally meeting his eyes. "Fiyero?"

Fiyero searched her face, trying to figure out what she was thinking "Yes?" There was no trace of anger in her voice. He let himself have a glimmer of hope. She would believe him. She had to believe him.

"I'm sorry."

* * *

Fiyero opened his eyes; he was lying on the ground, bare earth next to his face. Beyond his blurry vision, he saw a man in uniform looking back at him. Behind the man were another soldier and a dog. Not a Gale Forcer. Not his men.

"Captain?" the first soldier asked as he reached out a hand. "Can you see me?"

Fiyero let the soldier pulled him to an upright position and it was a while before the dizziness passed. He rubbed his palm to his forehead, where the pain was. He could feel that a swell had formed, the area wet. He looked at his palm. It was wet with blood. His blood.

The pestle.

Ozdammit.

"What happened?" he asked as he rubbed his chafed wrists. The skin was raw, and there were faint imprint marks around them, marks he never seen before.

"You were captured, Captain, and tortured. We're sorry that we took so long to find you." He pointed to the tree before him, the freshly cut ropes on the ground.

But Fiyero did not turn the direction that the man pointed. Instead, he looked behind him, attracted to the crackling sounds and the heat coming from that direction. The hut where he had stayed for more than a week was behind him, burning up in flames.

* * *

A few miles away, a Bear sat on the ground, his baggage next to him. As he waited, a lone figure appeared from among the trees, a broom in her hand. She dragged her feet towards him, her head down, her shoulders slumped.

He had seen the look in the woman's face when she dragged the unconscious man out of the hut. He had seen the way she bit her lips when she tied him to one of the trees and rubbed soil on his face, trying to make it looked as if he had been tied there for days, not knowing that the Bear was there even though she had asked him to meet her at the river. As the Bear walked away, he had taken one last look at the couple. The Captain was still unconscious, and Fae's fingers lingered on his face as she kissed him on his dirty cheek, her eyes closed.

"Did he really call the soldiers?" Acorn asked, his eyes searching her for an answer.

Her shoulders slumped further, if that could be possible, and she picked up some of the things from the ground wordlessly and moved ahead.

Acorn scrambled to his feet and took the remaining stuff. Their belongings, or what they could savage between them.

What a waste, Acorn thought as he looked at the smoke that indicated the location of their last home, but he kept his thoughts to himself. Perhaps they would join another group and stayed with them for a while. Or perhaps they would find a place of their own soon.

The Bear turned and tried to catch up with the green girl.

**AN The idea for the bees came from The Wicked Years – Elphaba did find a colony of bees when she travelled to the Vinkus after Fiyero's death.**

**Afternote : thank you to LittleMissDelirious for pointing out some syntax mistakes! :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

**AN : Some far-fetched (read : unbelievable in Wicked context) magic in this chapter. And hello from Perth! =) Just back from watching Wicked &amp; I really appreciate it as a friendship story this time round (K said that her tears fell when the Elphaba and Glinda said their goodbyes). It's almost 2 am here and I am very tired.**

Six weeks, four days and eighteen hours.

Fiyero took a deep breath as he walked out of the Wizard's Palace. He stretched, feeling the tightness that was in his limbs. He felt like a clock nowadays, all wound up, deeply aware of every second that had ticked by; the time that had passed since he last saw her, since she tied him to a tree and made her escape. With every passing second, it felt like his body was wound up even tighter, stifling his breath and squeezing his heart. It seemed that he was taking in water with every breath, drowning in some desperation that he could not see and could not fight no matter how hard he tried.

He knew the reasons behind her actions, her kind intentions, but that did not mean that he agreed with what she had done. He resented it. She should have consulted him before carrying out her plans. She should have sought his opinions and preempted him instead of treating him like a child who was incapable of making his own decisions. There was something in him, almost resembling hatred, for what she had done to him, what she had done for him. And mixed with that feeling was something else he could not ignore – that indescribable ache that that was not love, not sympathy, not desire, not yearning, not want and not even need, but all of these and much, much more.

The doctor had written a lengthy prescription for his injuries and pain – sleeping pills and painkillers, antibiotics and vitamins. He also suggested plenty of rest and some exercise, nothing strenuous. Fiyero threw away the prescription. He slept with the pain. It reminded him of the time they were together. She was supposed to be an accomplice in his recovery, wasn't she? So where was she now? Why was she not there when he woke up in the middle of the night clutching his leg? Why was she not there when the pain kept him awake? Did she know how much he missed her? Did she know how much he wished that she was there on those nights, lying next to him, her hand soothing away the pain when it became unbearable? And how much he wished that she was with him every night, her arms around him? He knew that it bordered on childishness, but a part of him did not want to get better - it was as if another memory of her was taken away when he began to recover and the pain began to fade.

While Elphaba was not around, Glinda was, and the blonde fussed excessively over him. She dropped by his house daily after work, and sent different kinds of Gillikinese health tonics when she was busy. She raised the possibility of a transfer again, and he simply told her that he would go back to work once the doctor had given his clearance. He needed something to keep himself from going crazy. Glinda only kept quiet and bit her lip. He did not dare to look at her in the eye; he was afraid that he would blurt out that he had seen Elphaba. He did not know what he wanted to hear more – if he wanted her to admit that she knew the green girl, or if she, like him, had not remembered her at all. He was glad when her enthusiasm waned and the frequency of her visits decreased.

Avaric dropped by one day with the reason for Glinda's diminishing attention – an admirer of hers had come to the Emerald City, someone whom she had met when she went back to Pertha Hills after their engagement. His name was Chuffrey, a baronet more than twice her age and a close business associate of his father's. Glinda said that he was just a friend, but Fiyero noticed the new jewelries that she wore, and her personal secretary had been so busy arranging the flowers that were delivered to her office every day that he _actually_ looked flustered. He did not comment on the glow on her face nowadays, nor the giggle that had erupted from her when she read the note on the present that was delivered to her office when he dropped by one day.

She deserved someone better.

The report on his captivity was vague. The Captain of the Guards was captured by people unknown and tortured. Fiyero had feigned concussion; he claimed that he could not remember much of his ordeal. The two men who had found him had been decorated for their braverism.

He knew what his men whispered behind his back. He was captured by the Wicked Witch of the West. He was tortured until he was inches from his death. He was very sure they had no idea how close they were to the truth, and how wrong they were.

The City was Elphaba now. Everything about it reminded him of her. The green of the city was her. He found himself staring at dark, long sleeve dresses displayed at shop windows. He whipped around when he heard a sardonic laugh in the crowd, expecting to see her face. There was once when he tailed a woman with long black hair and a wide-brimmed hat for a few streets, desperately wanting to see the face under the hat. He went into countless perfume shop, searching for a scent that was leaves and herbs and came out disappointed. He wrote a letter to Boq, asking subtly for her whereabouts, but the Munchkinlander was as clueless as he was. He wished that he knew where she was, if she was safe, if she was warm and if she had easy access to food and water. He was so deep in thought that he did not notice a black, nondescript carriage approaching him. The carriage stopped in front of him and Fiyero absentmindedly moved to the side. He only looked up when he heard someone called his name. The door to the carriage seemed to open by itself and he saw a familiar face inside, someone whom he did not expect to meet again.

"Hello, Captain," old Yackle smiled at him, revealing two rows of croaked, yellow teeth. "Care to help an old, helpless woman?"

* * *

"I refuse to participate in this!"

The old woman sat on the settee, looking at the woman in front of her as she paced from one end of the room to the other, her arms flailing. She would have found it amusing if it was not a matter of life and death. And she would not have asked her for help if she could help it - Yackle always preferred to work with Animals; she found them more sensible than humans.

"Why? I thought that you like her?"

The woman stopped and glowered at her. "Didn't you tell me never to let emotions rule my head?"

"Rules are meant to be broken, dearie," she replied indulgently.

The green girl snorted.

"I'll go alone," she counter-offered.

"It will arouse suspicions if you turn up alone. They always escort prisoners in pairs."

"Then find someone else."

"I can't, not at such short notice. A little bird told me that they will take her out of Southstairs before dawn. Something about not stirring up public sentiments. You know what they usually do to the Animals that they have arrested."

Elphaba's shoulders dropped. Of course she knew. There was a small field west of Southstairs, bare except for a pole erected in the center. Many Animals had died there, hung on the pole and left to die under the sun. It was an unofficial execution venue for Animals, and the Ozians knew better than to rescue any Animal hung on the pole.

"And we need him," Yackle added. "He has been to Southstairs; he knows the place well."

"Well enough to set a trap for me," she scoffed.

Yackle let out a long-suffering sigh.

"I didn't tell him who he will be working with. He won't know who you are. I will get someone to cast a camouflaging spell on you. You will look just like an ordinary man, so ordinary no one will remember how you look like once you are gone."

"What about him?"

"What do you mean what about him? Are you asking me if he will recognise you or if he will be changed too?"

The green girl wrapped her hands around her arms and rubbed the goosebumps that suddenly erupted all over her skin.

"Both."

"Don't worry about him, dearie. He will look different. It is not my intention to get him into trouble."

"But will he recognise me?"

Yackled chuckled. Such a stubborn girl.

"The face that he sees will be the face of a stranger."

The green girl glared at her. "You are not telling me something." Yackle had to laugh out loud.

"I am always not telling you something. But don't worry, my plan does not include either of you being caught."

Elphaba walked to the nearest window and peeled back the curtain slightly. The sun was setting, turning the sky fiery red. Fiyero's namesake. How appropriate, the way he came blazing into everyone's lives, even if he was not aware of it.

"Is it possible for a person to lose part of his memory?" she asked, her eyes looking at the scenery outside, her voice softer.

"Of course," the old woman answered. "Take me for example. Do you know that they used to call me 'The Belle of the balls'? I was the life of every party. None of the men could resist me. But looked at us now. I bet none of their foggy old brains could remember how I looked like and how they had made fools of themselves then." The old woman's shoulders shook with mirth as she recalled her past. She stopped when she noticed the green witch's menacing glare.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" She pretended to be affronted, and turned serious a tick tock later. "Who are you thinking of doing that to? Don't mess with a man's brain, dearie. You can never reverse a spell and give back what you have taken away."

Elphaba did not answer, but turned back and looked at the crimson sky. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Fiyero went early.

The low-rent warehouse district was the most run-down part of the City. Many of the buildings were on the verge of collapse. The place was not devoid of life though. It was filled with a myriad of characters – homeless drunks, jobless families, men with dubious backgrounds. As he made his way to his destination, Fiyero could not help but noticed the faint glow coming out from numerous windows, a flicker of a shadow as something, or someone, darted across the street ahead. Somewhere, a soft moan could be heard, the wail of a baby, or someone in agonizing pain. He quickened his pace and kept his eyes open. He had come without any weapon, and he suspected that there could be a few men in those buildings who would not hesitate to put a dagger between his shoulders if they knew that the man travelling alone in the dark was the Captain of the Guards.

The directions given by Yackle were pretty accurate and he managed to spot the building easily. It was a condemned two-storey building, an abandoned corn exchange from what he could see from the outside. Fiyero knew this area well. It was a short distance to Southstairs. The entrance to the stairway was boarded up once, but the pieces now lay broken on the ground. The remnants of what was once a door swung on its hinges, welcoming him with its squeaking sounds.

He wondered if that was how it happened to other people - an unintentional deed, a debt that needed to be paid, followed by another deed, and one fine day, you would wake up and found yourself on the other side of the line. He wondered if that was what happened to Elphaba, one deed at a time, until she could no longer extradite herself from the cobwebs of strife. Until it became her life.

Fiyero stepped through the door frame, his hands stretched out to feel the wall as he made his way up. The wooden steps were old and creaky, and every step he took announced to the whole world that he was coming. And so he was not surprised when he reached the second floor and saw two women in the room, their eyes fixed on him.

Yackle was seated on a wooden crate, smiling her toothy smile. Next to her was an ancient crone with a hunchback. Her eyes were milky, as if there was a film across her eyes, and it sent a shiver down his spine. There was a candle, burning a low flame that barely lit up the room, but it flared when the old woman gestured with her gnarled fingers. She gave a brief nod, as if he had passed some scrutiny of hers.

Fiyero heard shuffling at the back of the room, and it was only then that he realised there was a fourth party in the room. Next to the only window in the room, its glass panel surprising still intact but so coated with dust and grime that it filtered out most light, was a tall, lean figure, his arms folded. The figure approached the sitting area, the light gradually illuminating his features. It was a man, dressed in a uniform that identified him as a member of the Emerald City's Prison Guard. The face was ordinary, the result of inter-marriages between many races, the face of someone who could claim his ancestry anywhere. He had a lined forehead with receding hairline and small eyes, but Fiyero thought that he could see intelligence behind those eyes.

"Buck," the man introduced himself. A name that could be Munchkinlander or Quadling by origin. Fiyero stretched out his hand for a handshake, and then retract it back sheepishly.

Yackled passed him the set of clothing that was on her lap, identical to the ones wore by Buck.

"Your uniform," she said. "The release forms for the prisoner are in the right pocket. You can leave your clothes here. Buck will handle everything once you have brought her out. Come back here and change back to your own clothing. We will get rid of the uniform after that."

Fiyero nodded. He sat on one of the crates and removed his boots before he took off his shirt and pants. Before him, Yackle whistled appreciatively while Buck turned around, his face turning red. He put on the uniform quickly, unaccustomed to being stared at by someone as old as Yackle. The hunchback crone stood up when he was done and touched her fingers to his face, her lips moving. Her skin was cold and papery, and the chill from her indexes penetrated his skin. When that was done, she picked up a shard of broken glass from the floor and showed him his face. Looking back at him was an ordinary-looking face. He looked a few years older, with slightly tanned skin and dark brown hair and eyes. There was nothing remotely Vinkun about the face looking back at him.

"This will only last for two hours," Yackle told him.

"It will be enough," he replied with his own voice. He touched his face, feeling his own skin.

Buck led the way. There was something about the way the man carried himself, the ease of someone who was more accustomed to a lithe frame, and Fiyero found himself glancing at his companion several times. There was a black carriage behind the corn exchange that was hitched to a horse, looking almost ordinary if not for the words stenciled on the doors.

Buck climbed up the front, and Fiyero sat next to him, and he suddenly caught a whiff of something, something that reminded him of herbs and forests.

"Is this borrowed or another spell?" the Arjiki asked. The man next to him did not answer, but shook the reins and they started on their journey.

Fiyero knew of two ways in and out of Southstairs. The first way was via a plain door within the Wizard's Palace. The other was via a cage which could be hoisted up and down, transporting both prisoners and guards. No prisoner had ever left the underground prison via the secret entrance within the palace, which left the other way.

The carriage stopped at the entrance to Southstairs and the two got off. Fiyero shoved the papers to one of the guards who read it speedily and returned them to him before he led the way to the cage. Without a word, he walked into the cage that was waiting for them. Calling it a cage was a compliment. It was made of thick metal that had rusted after being exposed to the elements for years. The cage had a square wired base with two wired walls. The back and the front of the cage were open and there was no ceiling; the safety of the prisoners was never a priority. Fiyero had heard of stories where the prisoners had fallen to their deaths even before the cage had reached the bottom.

The guard gave a nod to the man manning the mechanism of the cage the moment Buck and Fiyero were in and the operator pulled on a lever, lowering the cage into the pit with a loud rattling that echoed in the night. The cage jerked as it made its descent and Buck clenched his hands nervously. Without thinking, Fiyero reached for him, but Buck pulled back instantly and Fiyero was rewarded with a scowl and a squaring of his shoulders.

The guards at the bottom checked the papers again when the cage reached the bottom. They were only allowed to disembark when the papers had passed their scrutiny. As Fiyero led the way to the Under-mayor, he could hear the guards hollered at the operator on top. The mechanism started again, bringing the cage to the surface. It was standard procedure; to ensure that no one from the pit could escape by climbing up the chains if the cage was left at the bottom.

The Under-mayor was pale as always. Like everyone else who worked in Southstairs, they worked, ate and slept in Southstairs and were only allowed to go up to the surface once every few months, and only for two days. It was a difficult job, hard on the family, but the pay was attractive. He looked at Fiyero and Buck.

"I have not seen you before," he commented as he shuffled through the papers. "First time here?"

"Of course not, Chyde," Fiyero replied, addressing the Under-mayor by his name. "But this is his first time." He jerked a thumb at Buck.

The use of his name seemed to put the Under-mayor at ease. The old man looked through the register, his finger tracing the words as he read.

"Ah yes, the Tigress. She is being held at the Animal District. Oh look." He tapped his finger on something scribbled at the last column. "Here's a special mention: do not use metal locks on her; she can unlock them."

Chyde led the way to the Animal District. He did not seem to be familiar with the way to their destination and got lost twice. Fiyero pointed out the correct corridor when the Under-mayor took a wrong turn for the third time; he did not want the spell to wear off when they were still in Southstairs. A strong stench reached their noses even before they reached the Animal district.

"Please forgive the stench. Hygiene isn't their strongest suit, as you know."

The living conditions there were deplorable. Fiyero had visited some of the other districts before, but those were nothing compared to what he saw in the Animal District. The cells here were made of metal bars and there was no privacy. Each cage housed an Animal, but it was so small some of the Animals had no space to turn. The Animal prisoners were all naked; their clothes, like their dignity, were taken away from them. Their food was distributed in rusty metal buckets which had not been washed for a long time. They were treated like cattle, perhaps even worse.

Fiyero stole a glance at Buck. His jaw was clenched and his hands were in fists. Fiyero hoped that he would be able to contain his anger.

They came to the end of a row, and there she was, a Tigress. She crouched in a corner, her arms covering her nakedness. But her bearing and the look in her eyes were defiant. Instead of metal locks, the metal chain wrapped around her wrists and ankles, the rings soldered in place of a lock. There were burn marks around her wrists where the hot metal chains had met her fur. But at least she was alive.

Fiyero heard a soft sigh of relief from his companion.

Buck went in the moment the door was opened. He held the Tigress by her arm and tried to pull her up. Fiyero followed and jerked at the chains.

"Get up!" he barked and he gave Buck a cautionary look that he hoped he caught. The Tigress stood up and snarled at him, and, chains or not, Fiyero suddenly felt less brave.

The two of them pulled the Tigress out of the cell and took the shortest route to the exit. Fiyero took out the baton at his waist and hit the Animal once in a while for good effect. At the drop off point, the guards checked the papers again before they got the operator above to lower the cage. The three of them stepped into the cage, and the journey to the surface seemed to take an eternity.

Fiyero shoved the Tigress into the carriage, making a show of locking the door and ensuring that the doors were secure before he got on in front. Buck shook the reins and the horse cantered. They turned a corner, putting the distance between Southstairs and themselves. Fiyero looked at his companion, his hands holding onto the reins, his back straight.

"So," Fiyero spoke with utmost casualness as he drummed his fingers on his thigh, "How have you been, Elphaba?" He was looking at the person introduced as Buck, and so he was able to observe the way his fingers tightened over the reins. The other party showed no reaction to his question otherwise.

"Elphaba – "

The sound of running footsteps on the cobblestones alerted them that they were not alone.

They turned their heads. There were three soldiers, one with a rifle. Something was wrong. Someone could have realised that the paperwork was forged, or the real prison transport had come early and found their cargo missing. All those time wasted in maneuvering the labyrinth that was Southstairs. Damnit.

Buck shook the reins, urging the horse to go faster.

"Stop!" One of the soldiers shouted, as another knelt down and tried to aim at the moving target.

The horse's canter broke into a gallop, the staccato clops giving hope.

Two shots whizzed by, far too wide to cause any damage. The soldiers shouted as they tried to catch up with the carriage.

They turned another corner just as the report of a third shot was heard, and the horse suddenly reared, twisting its body as an agonizing neigh pierced the air. The carriage was still harnessed to the animal, and it tilted precariously with the horse before it crashed sideways onto the ground. Fiyero and Buck were thrown to the ground, the air knocked out from them.

Buck was on his feet again in an instant, sprinting towards the carriage as another shot was heard. He ignored the bleeding animal and climbed onto the overturned carriage. Fiyero was there a moment later, and they pulled the Tigress out of the splintered door.

They fled on foot, the soldiers not far behind.

One turn, followed by another. The shouts were getting closer, and Fiyero ducked into the next alley that they came upon. The alley twisted and turned, and then there was a high wall that seemed to materialise out of nowhere. A dead end. They retraced their steps, their pace quickening, and were almost out of the alley when the shouts alerted them that the soldiers had caught up with them. Fiyero turned around and crashed onto the person who was right behind, and nearly gasped in surprise. He spun back into the shadows, pulling Buck with him, only it was no longer Buck, no longer a tall, lean man, but a girl who stiffened at his touch, whose protest was silenced by the fierceness of his grip.

Fiyero pulled her to him, feeling her thin frame in his arms. She was changed before him, and so naturally the spell had worn off earlier. There was no more camouflage, nothing to stop her from being identified as the Wicked Witch of the West. The soldiers would shoot her the moment they saw her, no question asked. It was no longer a matter of getting an Animal out of Southstairs. The stakes were now much higher. He stole a moment as they tried to catch their breaths, his hand touching the bare skin where the uniform had slipped off her thin shoulder as he pulled her deeper into the shadows. He inched closer to her as they waited, trying to concentrate on the sounds outside as her hair tickled his skin, her breath warm on his neck.

The soldiers ran past, oblivious to the trio that was hiding so close to them. But Fiyero knew that they would soon realise that they had lost sight of their target and would turned back. They could not hide here forever.

He would never put her life in jeopardy.

He pushed her to the Animal.

"Bring her to safety," he whispered. He had no idea if he was speaking to the girl or the Tigress.

He picked up a plank on the ground and was out of the alley before his companions could react. He followed the soldiers from a safe distance before he let the plank dropped onto the ground with a loud clatter. The soldiers turned collectively at the sound and chased after him the moment he bolted. Simpletons.

No one noticed when a green girl and an Animal came out of hiding and ran in the opposite direction. They had just turned a corner when the green girl thought she heard a faint raucous cheer went up in the distance.

She froze.

Fiyero.

She turned, as if she had the powers to see what had taken place a few streets away. She only saw the faint outline of the Tigress a few steps behind, her tawny eyes shining bright in the dark.

Never let emotions rule your head, Yackle's voice came from years ago.

She could not abandon the Animal. Not here. Not when she was shackled and defenceless. She placed a hand under the Animal's elbow and pulled her along. Her job was to rescue the Tigress, and she would not fail.

For once, luck was on their side, and the two girls managed to reach their destination safely. They went into the designated safe house and locked the door behind them.

The green girl leaned against the door and closed her eyes.

"Long night?" the Animal teased. The few days spent in Southstairs did not seem to diminish her spirits.

Elphaba ignored the jab and inspected the chains around the Tigress' wrists. "We'll need to get you out of Emerald City before we can find someone who can remove this. But it will definitely hurt."

"The least of my worries," was the Animal's reply. Elphaba moved to a corner where her dress and broom were. She stripped out of the uniform, not wanting to stay in that awful clothing a minute longer, as if the clothes alone could taint her soul with every passing tick tock, turning her into one of the Wizard's underlings. She paused when the clothes had pooled on the floor and looked at her hands, taking in her verdigris. Her skin colour might be shunned by everyone, but it was her skin, and she would never change it for anything else. Her mind wandered for a brief moment. Her hands wiping away the blood on the blue diamond tattoos.

Fiyero.

She put on her dress, tugging furiously at the sleeves.

An image of him, lying in his own blood, a group of soldiers standing over him.

Sweet Lurline, please let him be unharmed.

"So who is the other guard?" Tigress asked.

Elphaba looked at the Animal.

"That was the Captain of the Guards," she replied wearily. "The Wizard's man." They would kill him even though he was the Wizard's man, simply because he was the Wizard's man. The Wizard had ever shown mercy to a traitor.

Tigress chuckled.

"Not everything is black, white and green, my dear."

"What do you mean? He is the Captain of the Gale Force, there's nothing clearer than that. Yackle may have some kind of a hold on him, but that does not mean that we can trust him." She turned her head away, trying to hide her expression from the Animal.

"I don't think it's Yackle who has a hold on him," the Tigress replied.

That remark brought her up short.

"What do you mean?"

The Tigress faced the girl, her predator-sharp eyes not missing a single thing.

"I guess no one has told you what happened a few months ago. I was told to go into the Wizard's Palace and rescue a Goat. It was the Captain who approached Yackle, and it was him who brought me to the Throne Room where the Goat was. Yackle may be one of the greatest women I have ever met, but I don't think respect for the elderly is the reason why he made those reckless, insane decisions."

**A/N some of the description of Southstairs and the Under-mayor is copied from GM's Son Of A Witch, when Liir went to Southstairs in search of Nor. The others came from my imagination.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

**Shoutout to LittleMissDelirious for making that major decision. I'll be your rah-rah team from across the globe! =)**

**Flashbacks are in italics**

A tiny speck moved high in the air, tossed about by the turbulent wind. The cold air whipped at her, numbing her skin until she could not feel her digits anymore, but still she gripped her transport tightly, coaxing the broom to dive at a breakneck speed despite her protests. Below, the houses were so close she could see almost everything – a rat skittering across a roof, the billowing bedsheets hung out to dry, the glow of ashes when a man took a puff on his pipe as he sat in his garden. She flew past a chimney and the smoke from the outlet warmed her feet for a brief moment. A woman walked out of her house and looked skywards, but the witch was gone before her eyes could register what she had seen.

She knew that she was travelling too fast and too low, but she pushed on. She could not afford to waste any time.

That stupid, brainless prince.

Whatever possessed him to serve himself up on a plate for the soldiers? Whatever made him decided to play hero?

Elphaba muttered a curse under her breath. She wanted to find him, then yelled at him for being so stupid. Between the two of them, they could have come up with something and escaped. But he had decided that he could distract their pursuers, that his wits would get him out of trouble, like what had happened so many times when he was in Shiz. And she had let him.

She would never forgive him if he died because of this.

She would never forgive herself if he died because of her.

She flew around the Warehouse District, but he was no longer there; he was not at the place where they had split up, and he was not at the place where the carriage had overturned. There was no sign of the soldiers too. She flew to Southstairs, but the place looked strangely peaceful.

She went to his home and then to the Wizard's Palace, flying a few rounds above the turrets, not knowing what she should looked for.

She went back to the Warehouse District and searched every alley on foot. As she searched, her thoughts inadvertently went back to the conversation she had with Tigress. The Animal had told her that the Captain had initiated the rescue of Doctor Dillamond, something that she had thought impossible. She had thought that the boy who had rescued the Lion cub in Shiz had changed, but perhaps she had been wrong all this while.

And Fiyero had, despite the spell, seen through her disguise. The thought of him able to recognise her through some sixth sense or simply from her mannerisms sent a shiver through her. It made her feel vulnerable, naked, emotions that she did not want to feel. The years working against the Wizard were supposed to turn her into an emotionless being, one capable of suppressing all emotions except passion for her work. She was supposed to be part of a larger organism, just one of the many nameless, faceless workers working in the network not for selfish gains but for the greater good. And she had always been able to bury her individuality. But now the Arjiki prince had, somehow, made her feel like an individual again, a person with needs and wants, and desires that demanded to be fulfilled. She shook her head, shaking the thoughts away.

That was when she remembered that there was one last place to look.

She flew to Southstairs from the east and overshot the hideous place to the west. There it was, that barren field, dark as if the deaths that had taken place over the years had somehow tainted the air around it. She landed on the field and, with a quick flick of her wrist, produced a dim glow. The light was weak, but it was enough to show the outline of a man hanging from the pole just a short distance away. She quickened her footsteps, and as she approached the figure, she could see that his arms were stretched over the vertical pole and tied. His wrists were twisted so that his palms faced skywards, as if he was praying for deliverance in an awkward posture. His legs were bent backwards at the knees. Whoever who had tied him had use a rope to tie both ankles together before pulling the rope up and winding it around his neck, forcing his face to face upwards, to suffer the glare from the sun when it was at its strongest.

The tattoos on his face seemed to glow incandescent as she brought the light close to his face. His eyes were closed, his body slacked. Dead or unconscious?

She touched his face gently, feeling his cold skin.

"Fiyero?" she whispered his name.

* * *

He was cold.

The spell, or curse, or whatever that was used to change his looks, had worn off, and seemed to take with it all the warmth from his body. His body felt sore, which was surprising; he had not offered much of a resistance once he knew that he was outnumbered. He had let the soldiers dragged him along, taking him further and further away from Elphaba and the Tigress, increasing their chance of escaping. To his surprise, they had brought him to the field and tied him up, taunting him with what would come the next morning – he would replace the Tigress who had escaped. He would be left to bake under the sun, until he died of thirst or from the heat. Fiyero kept quiet as they wound the ropes around his limbs; he did not know when would the spell wear off, and he did not want them to be around when it did. Luck was on his side for the first time that night. They left, and not a moment too soon, as a sudden chill enveloped him and he somehow knew that he was himself again.

He tried to turn his wrists and was surprised to find that he was bound tighter than expected. The soldiers had done a good job in tying him up. He tugged, but the rope only chafed at his skin. He tried to lower his legs when his muscles started to feel the strain, but a sudden pull jerked his head backwards, choking him. They had used the same rope to secure both his ankles and neck. Ozdamnit.

He supposed that they would not check on him in the middle of the night, but then he was not their typical Animal convict. He imagined their surprise when they came and found the Captain of the Guards on the pole, and how long it would take before they figured out what happened. He closed his eyes, not wanting to think about what would come next. The temperature around him seemed to plummet, chilling him to the bones. Perhaps he would die of this unknown cold before the soldiers came back. It would be a blessing, compared to what would happen once they knew that the Captain of the Guards was involved in the rescue of an Animal. He tried to wiggle his fingers, but he could no longer feel them.

At least Elphaba was safe.

Fiyero had never experienced dead silence in his whole life. He had hunted on his own in the Thousand Year Grasslands, spending the nights in the wide expanse with not a single soul in sight. He had climbed the Great Kells with no company and nothing but his bare hands, just to test his endurance and ability to make it on his own. But there were always sounds around him. The whispers of the breeze, the harmony of the insects, the sounds when the birds and animals called out to one another. But there was not a single sound to be heard in the field; it was as if he was in a vacuum where no sound could penetrate. And so he thought that it was his imagination when he heard the lightest of a thud, a sound of something scratching against the barren ground, and the fingers of a warm breeze soft against his cheek.

The fingers lengthened into a palm, cupping his face, giving him warmth for the first time since the old crone changed his features.

"Fiyero?" the breeze whispered his name.

He tried to open his eyes. There was something bright, a sun, at the corner of his eyes, blinding him, and he shut them again with a groan.

"Fiyero." He heard his name again. No, not a breeze. A voice. He knew that voice. He would know her voice anywhere. He tried to tilt his head forward so that he could see what was in front of him, who was in front of him, choking when the rope cut into his neck. He forced his eyes open against the blinding light. He needed to see for himself, to convince himself that he was not hallucinating.

Elphaba.

* * *

"Elph - ba," he choked out her name.

She placed a finger on his lips, hushing him.

She dropped to her knees behind him and extinguished the light. The light allowed her to see in the dark, but she needed both her hands. She ran her fingers over the ropes blindly, searching for the knot around his ankles. She found it easily, but the knot was tight. She dug her fingers into the knot, her heart hammering as she tried to undo it as fast as she could. She wished that she had a knife with her or something sharp. A fire would do the trick, but the last thing she wanted was to set Fiyero on fire. He groaned with relief when the ropes around his ankles came free. He dropped his head forward and took his first deep breath in a long time.

"Go," he said hoarsely. "Go before they come back."

"Save your breath," was her reply and she moved on to the next knot.

The release of the last knot sent him sprawling onto her and she nearly fell with his weight. She looked around, expecting an ambush. This was too easy. They should have killed him on the spot, or beat him until he was half-dead, even if he was supposed to be a bait. There was no way none of them recognised the Captain of the Guards.

"The spell… it lasted," he muttered into her skin, answering the question that was on her mind.

"Can you stand?" she asked. He nodded, but he had not regained the feel of his legs and he stumbled the moment she let go.

Without another word, Elphaba wrapped an arm under his shoulders and started to move, her broom outstretched like a weapon. There was no time to lose.

He had no idea where she was bringing him, and so he was surprised when the surroundings started to look familiar. His second home in the city, the one which not many people were aware of. How did she know of this place? He wanted to ask her, but decided not to at the last minute. He supposed she knew everything.

They went through the gates and came upon the main door, and he placed his hand on the knob. The door swung inwards easily.

Fiyero staggered into the living room and collapsed gratefully onto the couch.

There's no place like home.

* * *

A fire place flushed against a whitewashed brick wall, last year's Lurlinemas sock still in place. A rosewood coffee table. A off-white fabric couch with crisscross patterns. A framed painting of a lake backed by grassy hills graced the wall next to the fireplace. A table lined another wall, its long counter top broken by a few memorabilia. There was a collection of fine wine on one end. Double layered curtains hung from the windows, the drapes reaching the floor in loose folds.

Elphaba had never tried to imagine how his house would look like; common sense had steered her away from any thoughts of him, any thoughts about him. But now here she was, in his house, seeing the way he decorated the place that was supposed to be his sanctuary. She had expected rich furnishings, chandeliers, silk seat cushions and marble floor, not this simple setup that seemed too homely for a prince. It came as a surprise, and yet not, and Elphaba could easily imagine Fiyero sitting on the couch, reading a newspaper or having a conversation with his friends. The simplicity of the layout gave her a sense of intimacy, as if she was one of the few people given a rare insight into the true self of the Arjiki prince.

Fiyero had gone to his bedroom. A tapestry divider separated them, yet she could hear the sounds as he shuffled around the room, opening one drawer after another. He, like she, seemed keen to get out of the uniform. The clink of a buckle came from the room, followed by a mutter under his breath. She picked a bottle from the wine rack and read every single word on its label, trying to take an interest, trying to tune off the sounds from the room and shut down her imagination.

She could not help the blush that was creeping up her face.

* * *

He fumbled with the belt. It dropped, and he could not help but let the obscenity escaped his lips. His fingers were still asleep, and it took him two attempts before he managed to pick up the belt. Shirt. Buttons. He gave up on the top two after numerous tries, leaving his collar opened. He dumped the uniform that Yackle had given him into the fireplace and was out of the room before the clothes even began to catch fire.

He almost expected her to be gone by the time he had changed, but there she was, standing in front of the wine rack. It was only then that he realised how hard his heart was beating; how much he had feared that she would be gone again, that she would disappear from his life again.

He took a step towards her, willing his heart to calm down.

"I never know you are a closet alcoholic," she said without turning.

He was as much as an alcoholic as she was a Wicked Witch, he thought.

"They are all from a friend. He thinks I need some cheering up," he said instead, and then paused. "I think you know him. It's Avaric. Avaric Tenmeadows."

Elphaba gave a slight nod, and he had no idea if she was acknowledging that he was not an alcoholic or that she knew Avaric. He wondered if Avaric remembered her, if he was the only person who had forgotten her.

She seemingly chose a bottle at random and poured its content into a wine glass.

"Drink it," she shoved it to his face. "Doctor's order."

Fiyero took the glass from her and looked at her across its rim. He had been with her since nightfall, but it was only then that he had the chance to really see her as _her_. She wore the dress that she always wore (did she only have one dress?), that unconventional black dress that covered so much of her beautiful emerald skin with its high collar and long sleeves, and the long skirt that reached her ankles and only revealed her boots. Her long hair was wind-blown and there was a slight tint on her cheeks, as if she, too, was not immune to the cold of the night. He wondered if her face was cold to the touch. He wanted to cup her face, to kiss her until the tint on her cheeks was replaced by blush of another kind. He sat on the couch instead and down the golden liquid. The alcohol hit his bloodstream, and he felt the warmth course through his veins. He dropped his head on the back of the couch and felt himself relaxing. She was right. He needed it.

His eyes were closed, and he felt the seat next to him sink in as she took her place. She held his hand and gently removed the glass from his grasp. Fiyero kept his eyes shut as she turned his wrist and checked for bruises before moving on to the his other wrist and ankles, immersing in a world where there was nothing but the touch and warmth of Elphaba. She shifted her weight, and her fingers were firm on his jaw. A finger brushed against his throat, touching the tender skin there.

"You'll get an ugly bruise here," she commented.

"Hmm," he made a non-committal sound as he lolled his head to her direction. His eyes remained closed. Her finger moved away, and he imagined it replaced by her lips, a gentle nip on his throat.

"Don't do that again," she said, her voice subdued.

"What?" He opened his eyes, surprised. Was she able to read his thoughts? She leaned back, away from him, a frown on her face.

"Don't rush headlong into danger. Don't get into trouble."

He laughed out loud, his fatigue temporarily forgotten.

"You don't hold the monopoly for getting into trouble, you know."

"I _am_ trouble."

"No, you're not." He sat up, closing the gap between them.

"Look," she brought up a hand. "I don't know why you do it, but you don't have to. It's not your fight."

"What are you talking about?"

"Tigress."

"You mean the Tigress."

"Her name is Tigress." She shook her head. "I know Yackle asked you for help, but you don't have to help. And Doctor Dillamond… Tigress told me … I… " She took a quick glance at him. "Thank you … for saving him." She looked away, as if it was difficult for her to say the words.

"You're welcome." He gave a smile that she did not see.

"Let this be your last time, Captain. Don't get involved again. Just do what you always do. You'll be safe."

Fiyero could not help smiling. "Oh, you mean rescue more Animals from Southstairs?"

"No!" She looked at him sharply. "I mean, just continue to do your job. Do your Captain thing." She gestured wildly, trying to get her point across. "Attend your fancy parties. Stay in the Wizard's good graces. You'll be safe. Safe is good."

He grabbed her wrist, drawn to the exasperation dawning on her face, the way the tension crept on her again. When did she ever relax?

"If safe is good, then why are you always putting yourself in danger?" he asked, his voice softer.

She shook her head again and tried to pull her hand away. "Just… just don't do this kind of thing again. You won't be so lucky the next time."

"Elphaba…" he reached for her other hand. "Elphaba, look at me."

Her hands lay slack in his hands. She looked away, to the side, to the ground, anywhere but him, anywhere but their hands. Her eyes landed on something behind him.

"What's that?" Something in her voice. Not curiosity.

He looked behind him, not letting go. It was the divider from Vinkus, the one that was used as a privacy screen for the bedroom. The divider was made up of four panels. Diamonds of different sizes hugged the frame of each panel, their centers dotted blue. Each piece of wood framed a tapestry, depicting a scene of Kiamo Ko in each of the four seasons.

"It's beautiful," she said, not really meaning it. She tugged her hands again. An almost inaudible plead.

Fiyero looked at her. Her eyes were still on the tapestries, not meeting his. He let out a soft breath and loosened his grip. He watched as her hands slipped out of his, like sand slipping between his fingers. He turned to the divider.

"This is done by an elderly Arjiki couple." He tried to hide the disappointment in his voice. "They do this during the winters, when both husband and wife are cloistered in Kiamo Ko. The husband does the carving, and once that was done, he will help his wife with the tapestries."

Elphaba went to the divider. She looked at each picture, her hand raised as she took in its workmanship. Her fingers outlined the towers of Kiamo Ko, the snow-capped tops of The Great Kells. They danced over a patch of pink roses, her green almost blending with the pigment of the leaves. Her fingers rested on a herd of animals in the Thousand Year Grasslands, drinking from a pond. She traced the willowy shape of a woman dancing around the bonfire with her tribesmen under the solstice moon, her finger touching the pink flower in her hair. "It's beautiful," she said, meaning it this time.

"The wife loves flowers," Fiyero explained as he took a step closer. He reached out, wanting to pull her into his arms, but clenched his hands and dropped them. "She will try to incorporate flowers into her stitching whenever she can. The husband grumbles of course, but he always give in in the end." He tried to inject a chuckle.

"Like this one?" she asked, pointing to the flower in the figure's hair.

"Yes, that's her work, alright. Gillikin roses do not grow in Vinkus, but it's her favourite flower."

"Gillikin roses," Elphaba repeated. "I never know the name…"

"_Pink goes with green," Galinda said as she took the flower from her vanity table and put it in Elphaba's hair._

"_I'm not going to class with a flower in my hair!" the green girl protested._

"_Oh yes you are," Galinda told her as she adjusted the white jacket that the green girl had never worn. "And pink matches your white jacket and all these flowers." She pointed to a few of the embroidered flowers on the jacket to emphasize her point. Elphaba rolled her eyes._

"_Don't roll your eyes. It's unbecoming."_

"_You're turning me into a freak show."_

"_No. I. Am. Not. You look beautiful, Elphie," the blonde turned her around so that she could see her reflection in the mirror. Elphaba looked at her reflection. Green face, white jacket. It… well, it was not that bad… was it? "See?"_

_Galinda pushed the green girl out of the door._

"_Now go and dazzle your classmates with your new personality. Don't come back until you have made three new friends. And don't forget - toss toss!" the blonde giggled as she tossed her own hair. She waved goodbye to her new best friend before she closed the door of their dorm room._

_Elphaba walked to the classroom, her books held close to her chest. She heard the whispers along the way as some of the students noticed the flower in her hair, and a snicker or two, but she kept her head low and marched ahead. Some of the classmates were already in the classroom; Galinda's fussing had made her later than usual. She stood outside the door. Did it really work this way? Would people accept her just because she wore something different and tossed her hair?_

_She took a deep breath._

"_Toss, toss," she muttered as she tossed her hair, as if saying the words would make the action look less stupid._

_Someone tried to stifle a laughter behind her. Elphaba spun around and saw him leaning against a pillar, his head cocked to one side, his arms crossed._

_It was Fiyero Tiggular, the Arjiki prince who had turned Shiz upside down the moment he stepped into the campus._

_He looked at her, a grin on his handsome face._

"_What?" she hissed, furious at being caught making that brainless gesture._

_Fiyero uncrossed his arms and swaggered towards her, the smile not leaving his face. His wavy hair fell over his eyes, emphasizing his dark eyes and long eyelashes and adding to that Kumbrica-may-care persona of his. _

"_Nothing," Fiyero said as he stopped before her. He touched the Gillikin rose in her hair with a finger and took a deep breath. She took a step back, her hand subconsciously pressing her books to her chest. He was so close she could smell the cologne that he was wearing and feel his warm breath on her cheek. She looked away, trying to ignore the racing of her heart._

_Stop that, she chided herself. He is the Arjiki prince, the scandalicious Prince Fiyero. He is Galinda's boyfriend, for Oz's sake. He's only talking to you because he likes to poke fun at people like you._

_But nothing could stop her heart from pumping wildly. Nothing could stop her face from turning a few shades darker. She hoped that he did not notice it under the dim lights._

_He cocked his head to one side. "It's just that you've been Galindified. 'Toss toss'." He imitated her. "You don't need to do that, you know."_

Her hand subconsciously went to her hair, as if the flower was still there.

"It's so beautiful you would like one in your hair?" Fiyero asked, interpreting her gesture. "I'd like to see that," he said. She looked up, startled as he tucked her hair behind her ear. For a moment, she had almost forgotten that he was there. He had changed into his own clothes earlier on, and his shirt opened at the collar. Elphaba could see the tattoos on his neck, the way it flowed from his cheeks to his collarbone like a river of stars. She flattened herself against the divider, away from his touch. Her sudden action rocked the stand, and Fiyero took a step forward and steadied the divider with a hand on the top. She looked at the floor, feeling her face turned a few shades darker.

"Don't," she whispered to herself. A reminder.

"What?"

She did not reply.

"What is it?" He reached out a hand, and she scrambled to the side. He retracted his hand.

"Stay away."

"Stay away? Why?"

"I'm dangerous," she said to the floor.

"Dangerous?"

"Can't you see?" She jabbed a finger at herself. "Just stay away. I'm trouble. I'm poison. I'm a curse. I'm a jinx. I'm - "

He stopped her rant with a finger to her lips, copying her earlier action. She froze.

"No, you're not," he insisted quietly.

There was nothing but silence. Her wide eyes looked back at him.

"I don't want to stay away from you, Elphaba. Do you really want me to stay away from you?" He posed the question to her, no longer able to hide the disappointment in his voice.

Another pause.

"Is that really what you want?" He asked again.

"I want you to be safe." She turned away from him. The words seemed to release a dam of emotions that she had held back the whole evening. She knew that it was the adrenaline wearing off, the exhaustion setting in, but nothing could stop the horrific images from coming to her mind again. Fiyero dead in a pool of blood. Fiyero killed by a hail of bullets. A shot to his heart. A rope around his neck. Flogged to death. One thousand and one ways to die. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to shut out the images. She did not even feel it when he placed his hands on her shoulders.

"I'm safe. Safe and sound."

"I don't want you to die," she whispered as she brought her trembling hands to her mouth, trying to stop the words from coming out. He was safe, living his charm life when she was away, and now it seemed that he was in danger every time she turned around. He had been injured so many times since he saw her again. She knew that she was the reason every time he was injured. She knew that it was only a matter of time before he died because of her. She shivered involuntarily, and Fiyero wrapped his arms around her, ignoring the slight flinch that she gave.

"I won't die," he told her.

He pulled her flush against his body as he pressed his cheek to her hair. "I'll live a long life," he promised as he took a deep breath, letting the gentle rise and fall of his chest lulled her into calmness. Fiyero waited until her shivers ceased before he laced their fingers together. He nuzzled his nose to her cheek and closed his eyes, tuning his breathing to match hers. He would be careful for her.

He felt her stir after a while, her tightly coiled body shifting, her restlessness showing. Elphaba turned. There was something in her eyes, something that he could not quite understand. Her eyes wandered from his face to his neck to his hands, and her lips pursed. She raised a hand slightly, and paused.

"What do you want, Elphaba?" he asked softly, gently.

Her eyes flickered back to his face and her lips parted slightly, as if she was going to say his name. She reached out, her fingers bunching the fabric of his shirt.

She pulled him to her.

She wanted him.

* * *

She was perfect. Everything about her was perfect. Her fumbling kisses, her gasps, the way her fingers dug too painfully into his skin; revealing her inexperience, even the way she trembled when he moved his mouth against hers.

Fiyero deepened his kiss as his hand curved around her body, caressing her skin through thin fabric of her dress, sending shots of shivers down her spine. His other hand buried itself into her hair and pulled her head back as he nipped at her neck, eliciting a tiny whimper from the woman in his arms before he kissed her lips again, each kiss more heated than the last.

"Fiyero," she called his name breathlessly in between kisses, her fingers pulling at his shirt, seeking his bare skin.

He did not have to ask. There was no need to ask at all.

* * *

He never remembered how they managed to move to the bedroom, how he managed not to trip over the furniture and kill both of them. The memories were all mixed up, more feeling than sight and sound, a blend of hot kisses and fervent touches and tugging of his clothes.

The next thing he knew they were on his bed, his shirt somewhere. Her hands moved over his chest, his tattoos, butterfly touches on the scar that he had gained when he had jumped off the cliff, and then he was kissing her lips, her jaw, her neck, his fingers trying to undo the small buttons at the back of her dress. He contemplated ripping the dress, but knew that it would not go down well with her. He pulled her into his lap, trying to slow down but failing badly. He kissed her again, his hands attempting to undo the buttons again.

"I think your dress does not like me," he growled against her lips and was rewarded by her rare breathless laughter and he had to capture her lips again.

She pushed him away gently, her fingers reaching for the buttons behind her back, her eyes not leaving his. They came off easily, and she pulled her dress over her head with one swift move. Something gripped her, a sudden moment of insecurity, and the green girl pressed the dress to her body, covering her verdigris. Fiyero could see the doubt in her eyes. He touched her face, wanting to eradicate that doubt, wanting to let her know how much he wanted her. She searched his face for something, perhaps desire, lust or love, he did not know, but she seemed to find whatever she was looking for, and the faintest of a smile touched her lips.

She let the dress fell.

Fiyero pulled her into his arms and kissed her again before he laid her gently on the bed, her hair fanned out on his pillow. He hovered over her, gazing at her with such intensity that she blushed and had to look away. The fire in the fire place was still burning, and the glow from the fire bathed her in a reddish light, as if she was glowing from within. She was thin, her body more resembling that of a girl who had just started to blossom than a woman's, more angles and bones than curves. But she was Elphaba, and she was perfect.

He kissed her again, his lips grazing across her skin, his hand roaming down her body, removing her last piece of clothing. Elphaba let out a whimper when he touched her at a place that she barely knew exist and her body arched instinctively to him. It would have embarrassed her if she was thinking, but she was not thinking. She had not been thinking since she threw caution to the wind and kissed him. Could not think, not with the way he kissed her, not with the way he touched her, and not with the way he breathed her name over and over again.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

**AN Surprise to 'see' me? :D Got some extra "me" time today as my girl was attending a workshop. =) And of course this is a short chapter; this is**** actually part 2 of the incredibly long chapter 12.**

It was the sound of thunder that woke her. Elphaba opened her eyes with a start, somehow aware that some time had passed without her knowing. The windows were open, and the curtains billowed in the breeze. But there was no rain. Not yet. Fiyero was next to her, deeply asleep, his arm dead weight on her hip, his fingers light against her skin. The lightning cast long flickering shadows within the room and emphasized his long eye lashes. With his tattoos, he looked more like a beautiful sculpture than a real person, his perfect features soft even under the harsh, bright light.

Elphaba could never sleep soundly, nor for long. Her body was always on alert, trained from the years on the run, when a moment of carelessness or a lapse in vigilance could tilt the delicate balance between success and failure, between life and death.

But she had fallen asleep, and Oz knew for how long. She could blame it on the bed, the comfortable bed with its satin bedsheets and fluffy pillows. She could blame it on the quilt that was wrapped round her, cocooning her as if she was a larva. But she knew that it was not the bed. It was not the quilt. It was him. The calm that she felt when she was in his arms, the way he lulled her to sleep with his lullaby of soft kisses and gentle touches, the comfortable feeling of his skin against hers, his heartbeat steady under her hand.

She reached out a hand and then stopped as a thought occurred to her, her fingers a hair's breadth from his temple. Was that how it happened? Did someone remove his memories just by chanting a spell with his fingers on his temple? Was he asleep when it happened, or did he put up a struggle? Was it her? Did she unintentionally cast a spell on him on those early days when she was flipping through the Gimmerie and thinking of him at the same time? Did her spell leech the memories from his mind, bit by bit, piece by piece? She knew that she was being ridiculous, but she lowered her hand, afraid that somehow she could take away all his memories with just one touch, afraid that his mind would be left with nothing but babyish thoughts.

She brushed her thumb against his cheek instead, just once, and then pushed away the quilt. The sight of his bare chest reminded her of what had happened the night before. The shivers when he kissed her on her lips, the desire that he unleashed when he brushed them against her skin. His hands touching her like no one had ever done before. His hands on her hips as he pressed his lips to her neck, making her his.

But he was not hers. He would never be hers.

A roar of a thunder shook the room, affirming her thoughts.

He was Fiyero Tiggular, for Oz's sake, the crown prince of the Arjiki people. She was a wanted rebel. He was every girl's poster dream guy. She was on so many wanted posters. He was out of her league, unattainable and forbidden. She was ostracized, the epitome of wickedness. He was the Captain of the Emerald City Guards. She was the Wicked Witch of the West. He was engaged, promised to a woman. He was engaged to Glinda the Good, Glinda her best friend.

A flash of lightning cut across the sky, followed closely by a rumble that sounded as if it was just beside her ear, admonishing her.

_Not yours_, another lightning reproached her.

_He's forbidden_, a thunder roared with anger. _Not yours_.

_Not yours_, another lightning reminded her, so bright it seemed that she had gone blind for a moment.

She pushed his arm away and tore herself from his embrace. Her feet landed on the cold, hard floor, and she could not help but shivered when her body was exposed to the cold air. Elphaba looked at him for one last time. Fiyero's hand had shifted back, his fingers curling, trying to find her even in his sleep.

She turned away.

Her clothes were on the floor, and she was suddenly aware of his scent on her as she bent down to retrieve them. It was not cologne; he seemed to have outgrown that, but perhaps it was aftershave or shampoo. His scent lingered on her skin, like morning dew on a leaf, like mist in a valley. For a moment, she wondered if he had her scent too, whatever her scent was. She shook her head furiously and began to put on her clothes.

"Elphaba?" a voice came from behind, husky from sleep. She froze.

Another flash of lightning lit up the room, showing him where she was.

"What are you doing?" he asked, still sleepy, but his voice took on a worried undertone.

"I'm leaving," she said as she pulled her dress over her head, in what she hoped was a harsh, don't-mess-with-me voice. Suddenly the dress seemed to grow a hundred extra buttons, each as tiny as a pearl.

"Wait …" he mumbled, and the next thing she knew he had somehow gotten out of bed.

He wrapped his arms around her.

"So is that it? Am I just good enough for one night?" His hands drifted to her hips as he pressed his lips to her jaw. His tone was light, but the way he gripped her hips belied the casualness of his voice.

Elphaba looked out of the window. In the east, a tint of fiery red peeked through the dark clouds near the horizon, signaling the crack of dawn. He tightened his grip on her, as if he knew what she was thinking.

"Don't leave." He buried his face in her hair. "It's daylight, it's going to rain. It's not safe."

"I can make it if I leave now," she tried to justify, knowing fully well that it was too late.

Not hers. Not hers. Not hers.

He shook his head, mussing up her hair. He reached for her hands, interlacing their fingers, chaining her to him.

"Can you stay for one more day? Just one more day, please?" He muttered into her skin.

She closed her eyes, giving herself a moment as she felt his breath warm on her neck.

She could stay in his arms the whole day. She wanted to stay in his arms the whole day.

Glinda.

She could not.

She spun around.

"What if I did it?" she hissed.

Her statement caught him by surprise. "Did what?"

"What if I did it? What if I am the one who take away your memory?"

A flicker of doubt flashed across his face. "Did you?" He lowered his hands which were raised.

She could have said yes then. She imagined claiming credit. Just one word. And he would believe her. There was no reason for him to doubt her. The concern on his face would be replaced by disgust and repulsion. He would turn his back to her and walked out of the room. Or maybe he had a gun in the room that he would use on her. Just a little lie, and they would be strangers again, the best solution to their situation. No one would get hurt. Not him. Not Glinda.

She should not have looked at his eyes. He should not have let his feelings show.

She dropped her head.

"I don't know," she admitted, her shoulders slumped.

It felt like an eternity, but it was only a moment before he lifted her chin and kissed her gently on her lips.

"I don't know if I did it, Fiyero," she told him when their lips parted.

"You don't know if you did it, and you don't know if you didn't. I'd say you didn't, and I am always right," he said in a soft voice, a smile on his lips. He leaned his forehead to hers, his hands on her shoulders. "I know of this place nearby that sells the freshest vegetables. A wide variety of leafy greens, juicy tomatoes the size of your palm and freshly plucked herbs. They have all kinds of vegetables so long as it is in season. You'll like it."

He pulled her into his arms. "Stay, please?" he asked, his voice hopeful.

She closed her eyes and let his warmth washed over her.

Wicked, wicked girl.

* * *

Breakfast was simple, just cereal and hot coffee. She sat on a tall stool, across the room from where Fiyero was. Elphaba never had a large appetite, and years of surviving on fruits and vegetables had shrunk it even further. She was full after taking a small serving of cereal, but stayed in the kitchen, her hand gripping the handle of her mug, her head down as if she was taking in the aroma of the coffee beans, or maybe she was just avoiding his eyes. Her feet rested on the upper rung of the stool, her legs folded as if she was trying to make herself as inconspicuous as possible.

The rising sun had dispersed the dark clouds and the rumble of the thunder sounded more and more distant. Sunlight streamed into the kitchen, banishing the darkness from even the furthest corners of the room, and it seemed like it had also burned away the cloak of boldness that she had worn last night. It was as if she had withdrawn into herself the moment he stopped touching her. He knelt next to her, a hand on the top of the stool to support himself while he reached for her right hand with his other hand, but she wrapped that hand around the mug too.

He looked up at her. "Hey," he said softly. She looked at him, and it was a while before a tiny smile appeared on her face. Fiyero found his own smile broadened at the sight of hers, and her smile widened slightly. He brushed his fingers against her hand, and he was glad that she did not pull away this time.

"Tell me a story," he said. "Tell me how we met." She pulled her hand away and her frown deepened.

"You saw me at the Throne Room in the Emerald City and you shot me." He could not help but hear the sadness in her voice.

"Elphaba, you know that that is not true. Why are you still trying to pretend?" he asked as he reached for her hand again.

"What do you remember then?" She asked him in return.

He shook his head. "Nothing," he admitted, smiling sadly. "But if I have to imagine, I would say that we met in Shiz on a bright sunny day, and I swept you off your feet with my irresistible charms." She rolled her eyes and he chuckled.

He pressed her fingers to his lips.

"I love you." She stiffened at the words. He tightened his grip on her wrist.

"Elphaba..."

"You can't like a stranger, Captain." Her defence was up again.

"You're not a stranger," Fiyero contended.

"You don't know me. You don't know anything about me. That's the definition of a stranger."

"Who says that I don't know anything about you? I know that you're stubborn, you're passionate. You never let anyone talk." He kissed the inside of her wrist, sending a shiver down her spine. "You're vegetarian. You're left handed. You love books. I bet you don't even know this, but you always take a deep breath after you untie your hair." Another kiss on her wrist, and then one on each knuckle. "Elphaba," he looked at her again. "Were we together when we were in Shiz?"

She shook her head slowly, as if he had asked a silly question. "That's impossible, and you know it."

He searched her face for an answer. "Why do you say that it is impossible? Even if what I felt then was only half of what I feel now, it's more than enough."

She shook her head again. "There's nothing between us. You are the scandalicious prince charming. I am the school outcast. You're…" she paused, and bit her lower lip. "You can ask anyone, and they will all tell you that there is nothing between us."

He laughed at her vehement denial. "They're all wrong then. And you're wrong too."

"I'm not wrong." Her eyes flashed.

He lifted his face to her then, tilted slightly, his eyes drifting to her lips, and Elphaba subconsciously dipped her face to meet his. She caught herself when she saw his teasing smile, a light blush blooming across her face.

He laughed again as he took her mug away from her. He dipped his head, for real this time, and kissed her at the corner of her lips before moving on to her grey lips. "I love you," he repeated again, soft against her lips, so sure of how he felt that there was no need to shout it out loud. He cupped her face when he felt her fingers tentative on his jaw and deepened his kiss. He took his time, slowly, gently, showing her how he felt since she did not believe in his words.

"That stall," Elphaba whispered as she drew back slightly. "You're not going to make it if we continue like this."

Fiyero could not help but laugh. "You're infuriating, do you know that?" he said, and was rewarded with a faint smile. He frowned when something occurred to him. "You're not planning to disappear when I'm not around, are you? Promise me that you'll still be here when I come back." She looked out of the window. The thunderclouds had moved on, and the sun was shining. She did not say a word, but there was no way she could leave in the next few hours, not unless she wanted to be seen by all the Ozians in the city. The sun rays were akin to prison bars, keeping her in. He kissed her wrist again, wanting to kiss the sadness away.

"I got a study room here. It's nothing much, but I have a few books that may interest you," he told her as he touched her face with his fingers. "Don't read too fast."

The study room was next to the bedroom. There was only one shelf, a miserable library if it was ever one, but it was more than enough for the girl who had not stepped into a library in years. There was no story book, but Elphaba never had a preference for fiction, and she soon found herself on the couch with a book on military strategies. It was interesting, how the prince who used to dance through life shed his playful lifestyle to become a military personnel who read books on strategies and commanded a troop. The thought of him being Captain of the Guards brought a pang to her heart. Elphaba closed the book, unable to continue any longer. No matter what he said, no matter what he claimed … no, it would not be possible.

She browsed through another book half-heartedly, a book on Vinkun legends, and had almost finished the book when she heard the door to the house opened and closed. Fiyero. He had come back. She stayed on the couch, finishing the last few pages as she waited for him to appear when something struck her as odd – he did not call out for her. She took a quick glance on the carpeted floor. She had brought her broom into the room earlier and had placed it on the floor. She gave it a kick, sending it into the narrow space between the furniture and the floor. Elphaba put the book down quietly and went to the door. The divider blocked her view of the living room, but the gaps between the panels allowed her to have a partial glimpse of the new arrival.

No, it was not Fiyero. The person standing in the middle of the living room was not the man that she had spent the night with. She backed off, hoping that she could retreat into the study room before the person was alerted to her presence. But she was too late. A pair of eyes turned to her direction, perhaps drawn to her soft footsteps. A few steps, and the other party stepped out from behind the divider, eyes wide at the sight of the green girl.

"Elphie?"


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

**Someone may not come off as very likable in these two chapters.**

The blonde with the pastel yellow sundress and matching accessories took a tentative step forward.

"Elphie?" she whispered her name again, as if anything above a whisper would make the apparition before her disappear. "Is that you?"

Was there more than one Wicked Witch of the West? Was there more than one unfortunate person with skin the colour of sin? Was there more than one person with the face that had graced more than a thousand Wanted posters, whose name struck fear into everyone's heart?

"Hello Glinda," Elphaba replied, trying to keep her voice steady.

It was half a second before a bright smile replaced the confused look on the blonde's face. Glinda dropped her handbag on the ground and rushed forward to give her best friend a hug.

"Elphie!" she squealed. Elphaba raised her arms and wrapped them around the shorter girl's shoulders tentatively. "Elphie! Elphie! Elphie!" Glinda called her name repeatedly as she squeezed her best friend harder and rocked her from side to side.

The Gillikinese released Elphaba from her deathly hug after a while and pushed aside a stray lock of hair that had come loose from her hair pin. "Oh, sweet Lurline! I thought that I would never see you again! Today is the best day of my life! Oh Elphie!"

Glinda held Elphaba's hands wide and looked at her. She put a hand to her mouth.

"Oh, look at you! You've cut your hair!" she touched Elphaba's hair. She took a step back and gave a critical look, her fingers forming a V under her chin. "It's a bit… but you look good in this hairstyle!" She giggled as she held the green girl's hands again.

"It's so good to see you!" the blonde said as she led her friend to the couch in the living room, patting the space next to her.

"Oh Elphie," Glinda gave a wistful smile. "How have you been? Have you been eating well? Have you been sleeping well?"

Elphaba nodded her head tentatively. Glinda waved her hand with a giggle like she always did. "Oh of course you are. You are staying here now, aren't you? Do you always do this? Hiding in empty houses?"

Elphaba kept quiet, not correcting the petite girl's assumptions.

"Have you been here long?"

A brief shake of her head. Glinda chattered on as if there was no tomorrow.

"Oh, Elphie, you won't believe it, but this place actually belongs to us." Elphaba's eyes widened. "Us, yes. Fiyero and me," Glinda giggled as she placed a hand on her heart. "What a coincidence that you chose this particular house out of so many. This is actually Fiyero's house, not technically ours, but I did help him with his house hunting. He bought it off the market a few years ago as an investment but we never rent it out."

The blonde took a breath. "When he first bought it, I thought that we would move in after we got married, or use it as a place for our weekend retreats but now…" she looked down at her lap for a moment before perking up again. "Well, I am glad that we didn't or you would have ended up staying in another house and I will never get to see you! It all works out just great!" And the blonde threw up her hands in exhilaration and wrapped them around the green girl again.

"I miss you so much, Elphie! You have no idea how much I miss you. How I wish that I could see you every day, without all this cloak and dagger stuff!" She stifled a sniff as she rested her cheek on the taller girl's shoulder. She let out a contented sigh before she continued with her ramblings, talking about the good old days. Elphaba looked up when she heard an almost inaudible click. The door opened, revealing a figure – Fiyero, his arms carrying a bag of groceries. The prince's eyes widened with surprise; he had no idea that Glinda would turn up. The feeling of Glinda in her arms (and the girl's ramblings) and Fiyero at the door reminded her of the mess that she was in. She burrowed her brows and shook her head slightly, hoping that the blonde would not be aware of her slight movements and tried to wave him away with her fingers.

_Go. _

Glinda would never know that he was at the door if he turned and walked away. Elphaba would talk to her best friend and leave the house once night fell. Glinda would never know that Fiyero was here. She would never find out what had happened last night.

_Go_, she mouthed when he hesitated.

He shook his head.

_Go_, she repeated. _Please. _Fiyero stood there, not moving, and then he slowly placed the grocery bag on the floor next to the door and backed off. His eyes never left hers. He did not hide how he felt.

Elphaba closed her eyes. She wished that she had the courage to keep her eyes open, to see him leave, to show him that she wanted him to leave. But she kept them shut. She had no idea what she would do if she looked at him again, at the crushed look on his face. There was no way she was going to hurt Glinda, not sweet, kind-hearted Glinda. She tried to focus on Glinda's voice, on what the blonde was saying as she continued to hug her best friend. Elphaba opened her eyes again when she thought that Fiyero had left, only to see that he had stepped into the house quietly after closing the door behind him, the crushed look on his face replaced by one of determination.

_No, Fiyero. Please, no._

"Hello, Glinda," he spoke calmly, repeating the same words that Elphaba had said earlier.

Glinda spun around at the sound of his voice.

"Fiyero?"

She spread her arms wide at the sight of the Arjiki, like a mother hen that was trying to protect her brood.

"Look Fiyero, listen to me. I can explain. This is not what you think. She is not the Wicked Witch," she babbled. "I mean, she is that person but she is not wicked. She's… she's not really wicked, you know. She's not a terrorist – "

Elphaba put her hand on Glinda's shoulder, and the blonde covered that hand with hers and turned around.

"No, Elphie, let me do this. I can talk him out of it. He'll listen to me," she spoke in a hush voice, trying to convince the green girl as she turned to face Fiyero again.

Glinda stood up and took a few steps forward, occasionally turning back to ensure that she was blocking Fiyero's sight of the green girl.

"You have to believe me, Fiyero. She's not evil. Those are just rumours, you know. If you get to know her you will know that she is just being misunderstood. So if you are carrying a gun, please don't take it out …" She shook her head. "Her name is Elphaba, and she is my best friend."

"I know," Fiyero replied simply.

Glinda's eyes grew wide. "You know?"

He nodded his head.

"I know. And I knew that she was here. I asked her to stay."

Glinda looked at him, and then at the girl behind her, confusion written all over her face.

"You… I don't understand."

"Glinda, I can explain," Elphaba raised her hands, trying to calm the blonde down.

"I'll explain," Fiyero interrupted as he made his way to the couch, past his fiancée and reached for the green girl's hand. Elphaba tried to pull away but he held onto her hand firmly. She tried to shake his hand off, but that only drew the attention of the blonde.

She looked at their hands together, and then looked up at them.

"What – "

Fiyero took a deep breath before he continued.

"I've been seeing her, Glinda. I'm sorry, but I'm in love with her. I'm in love with Elphaba. And I am leaving with her."

"What?" the two girls chorused at the same time, disbelief in both their voices.

Elphaba was the first to recover.

"You can't!" Elphaba hissed, and Fiyero spun to face her. "You can't do that! What kind of brainless decision is that?"

"Yes I can," he looked at her with steely eyes as he laced his fingers with hers. "I am going with you, whether you like it or not. I've thought about it on the way back. I can't let you leave without me. I won't let that happen."

"Don't be ridiculous, Fiyero," Elphaba tried to speak brashly. "You don't know what you are talking –"

He raised his voice and cut her off. "I know what I am talking about. I know what I am doing. Do you know how it has been for me? Not knowing where you are? Not knowing if you are alive or dead, if you are cold or hungry?"

"So it's sympathy for the less fortunate, Captain?" Her words dripped acid. "Well, there are more unfortunate people out there. Why don't you direct your attention to them and give me a break."

"Elphaba, it's not that, and you know it. I love you and I know you feel the same way too – "

"I don't! Get this into your head, Captain." She jabbed a finger at his head. "Because I don't feel anything for you!"

The anger in his eyes faded, replaced by a sadness that made her regret the words that she had said. He seemed to notice the slight change in her demeanor. "You can't hide your feelings from me," he said, his voice softer. "I used to think that I was just being foolish, but you can't deny it anymore. Not after last night."

Glinda gasped. This was her fiancé, the man whom she had been with for so many years. He was not perfect, despite how much promise he had shown at the beginning of their relationship. He studied too little when he was in Shiz and he was too obsessed with his work after he had joined the Gale Force. But he had always respected her in their relationship, a huge contrast to the scandalacious reputation that surrounded him when he was younger. He had never spent a night with her and had never acted inappropriately. His actions (or lack thereof) cast doubts in her mind sometimes; it made her wonder if he was not physically attracted to her. She had tried to tempt him, even tried to seduce him, but he had always declined her respectfully, saying that he would not take advantage of her. And now Glinda wondered if those were just excuses, for it seemed that he had not hesitated in spending the night with another woman who was not his fiancée, a woman whom he was not supposed to know, a woman who was inferior to her in every single way.

"Fiyero, if this is your way to get back at me for Chuff…" The look on his face stopped her.

"Glinda, you don't understand. This is not about the baronet or any other man who is currently besotted with you. I can't explain how I feel, I can't explain why. I cannot even explain why I am supposed to know her and yet I don't remember a single thing about her. You can call it a spell or anything, but I can't stop thinking of her since the day I saw her at the Throne Room."

Glinda took a step back and bit her lip. She looked at her fingers, at the sparkling engagement ring that adorned her ring finger. She was Glinda the Good. She was beautiful, smart and popular. Her parents adored her. Everyone wanted to be her friend. She was the right-hand woman of the Wizard. Every woman envied her and every man wanted her. She was engaged to the man she loved, the handsome prince that so many girls had a crush on. She was the epitome of the perfect woman.

She twisted the diamond ring. It was supposed to be her engagement ring, but Fiyero did not buy it. He did not propose to her. He did not bend down on one knee and ask her to marry him. The engagement was a sham, and so was she. She was nobody, just a girl who had been living in a web of lies for years, propped by all the expensive jewelry and beautiful gowns. Every word she said to the Ozians was scripted. Every smile that she offered hid an aching heart. She looked at the man before her, his hand clasping the hand of another woman so tenderly. He could not remember her and yet that did nothing to diminish the love that he had for her.

She tugged at the ring, a sudden desire to throw it at him and cut his pretty face, but the jewelry was stuck. Glinda tried to pull the offensive ring out of her finger, ignoring it when her skin turned red and her knuckle began to swell from the abrasion, but the ring refused to budge. Elphaba rushed forward and covered Glinda's hands with hers.

"Don't do this, Glinda." The green girl tried to pry her fingers apart. "You'll hurt yourself." Glinda jerked her hands to brush Elphaba away, but the green girl tightened her grip. "Glinda, please." For the first time in her life, the concern in Elphaba's voice grated on her nerves.

"Go away," she hissed at her best friend as she pushed her away, intent in getting the ring out. Her shove caught the green girl unaware, and the latter stumbled backward, tripping over the coffee table. Glinda looked up at the sound, in time to see Fiyero catch her from behind.

"You OK?" he asked as he wrapped his arms protectively around the green girl and pulled her up, oblivious to the fact that his fiancee was taking everything in.

Elphaba gave a brief nod to the man who had broken her fall. She took a step toward the blonde again, but balked when Glinda shot out a hand, her manicured finger pointing accusingly at the pair.

"Go!" she screeched. "Get out!" The shocked look on both their faces caught Glinda by surprise, and her lips quivered as she felt the anger slowly seep out of her. Her legs buckled and Glinda sank to the floor with a cry. The tears began to fall, staining her cheery dress a darker, solemn shade. "Just go," she said as she heaved in between sobs, her face buried in her dainty hands. "You've always been in love with her anyway..."

**AN Got a new project at work, so updates may be affected.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

**Flashbacks are in italics**

"_Glinda?" a hesitant voice spoke._

_Glinda was at the Suicide Canal, all alone. Today was a better day than yesterday. Today marked the last day of the second week that she had attended lessons after skipping school for one whole week. In the first week, she had simply gone to class so that she would not be marked as absent. She did not pay attention in class and she avoided all her friends. In the second week, she started to sit with them again, giving a smile and a wave to whoever who called her name and mechanically tossing her hair once in a while. ShenShen asked her about her absence and she blamed it on her monthlies. "The pain was so bad I couldn't get out of bed," she lied. She did not say that the pain was from her heart._

_She had excused herself the moment the class ended, claiming that she felt a migraine coming. Her jaw hurt from all the smiling. She turned a corner, and there were two students sharing a newspaper, discussing an article about the atrocities committed by the Wicked Witch of the West. She wanted to go up to them and ripped the offensive newspapers from their hands. But she did not. Instead, she took a deep breath and lifted her head up high and made her way to the Suicide Canal, the nearest place that would offer her some privacy. She chose a tree at the furthest corner of the park and went behind it before she let the tears fell._

"_Glinda?" the voice called her name again._

_She looked up. Fiyero was kneeling down in front of her, a worried look on his face. She knew that she looked terrible. She had not bothered to put on any make-up, but for once she was glad for that. Her tears had dried, and without the ruined makeup, Fiyero was unable to tell that she had been crying. She hoped that her eyes were not swollen._

"_Are you alright?" he asked._

_She nodded her head and tried to smile. "Just perky, Fiyero."_

"_That's great," was his reply, but he did not sound convinced._

_He sat down beside her and looked out at the canal. The two of them sat next to each other, not saying a word. Glinda rested her head on his shoulder after a while._

"_I miss her so much, Fiyero," Glinda whispered into his ear after she had glanced around to ensure that there was nobody and no Tiktok around. That was how it was nowadays. They could only talk about her in soft whispers in secluded corners. They could no longer mention her name. Morrible had eyes and ears everywhere, her little mechanical things that eavesdropped on private conversations, staff or students who were more than eager to report to the school mistress in return for favours._

"_I know," he said as he wrapped an arm around her and pressed his lips on her hair._

_She snuggled closer to him. At least she still had him. His hugs and kisses made everything slightly more bearable._

_"Do you miss her too?" she asked._

_Fiyero plucked a blade of grass and tossed it in the air. It did not go far._

"_Yeah."_

_There was something, something in his voice, something in that emotionless, monosyllabic answer, that made her looked at his face, and she saw something that she had never seen before. Or perhaps she had but she never took notice. A kind of melancholy that she would never associate with him, the happy-go-lucky, dancing-through-life, scandalacious prince._

_And then she remembered._

_He had waited at the train platform the day she returned from the Emerald City. She had cried throughout the journey and only stopped when she heard the train announcement that they were entering Shiz Station, leaving barely enough time to touch up her ruined make-up. As she stood at the door of the carriage, she saw him looking at the passengers disembarking from the train, his eyes scanning the top of the crowd, an anxious look on his face. The sight of him lifted her spirits slightly and suddenly everything did not seem so bleak after all. She went up to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. He returned her embrace. When she finally let go, his first sentence was "Where's Elphaba?"_

_Sweet Lurline. The increasing moodification, the ways his thoughts seemed to be so far away sometimes. She remembered the times when he would suddenly have something urgent to do whenever Elphaba appeared and the glances that he cast her way when he thought no one was looking. Her mind went back to the day when they left for the Emerald City. Fiyero had bought poppies for Elphaba. He had gone straight to the green girl, ignoring his girlfriend who was also there. Glinda had only mentioned once briefly that Elphaba liked poppies, and he had remembered._

_She had to know._

"_Do you like her?" she asked softly._

_Fiyero turned to the other side, suddenly interested in the grass on his left. He ran his fingers through the tall grass, seemingly deep in thought._

"_Fiyero," she called his name. "Do you like her?"_

_His hand froze among the grass. "Yeah, of course I like her. I like everybody."_

_She rested her hand on his knee. "I don't mean that, Fiyero." She waited for him to interlace their fingers. He always did that whenever she put her hand on his knee._

_He did not._

"_I don't know what you mean," he said unconvincingly, his eyes averted._

"_You know what I mean, Fiyero. You like her, don't you? You're attracted to her."_

"_Glinda, I don't think we should talk about this now."_

"_I think we do, Fiyero. Do you like her? Is it true?"_

"_She's a friend." He said after a while._

"A_ friend?" Glinda could not help but raise her voice. "But you hardly talk to her!" _

_He dug his fingers into the earth for a fistful of soil. The arm around her dropped as he unclenched his fist to release clumps of soil._

_It was just two words when he spoke again, but the words pierced her heart like a dagger._

"_I'm sorry."_

_Glinda clasped her hand to her mouth to stifle the sob that threatened to escape from her throat. _

_It must be a mistake. It had to be a mistake. _

"_You're pulling my leg," she whispered when she felt that she was capable of speaking without her voice cracking._

_Fiyero turned to her and it was only then that she noticed the dark eye bags that were never there before. There was this weariness around him that she had never seen before. It seemed that she was not the only person who had been plagued with sleepless nights._

"_I wish that I am joking." He gave a bitter laugh. "I wish that all this is not true."_

_She did not understand. "But… why?"_

"_I don't know why, Glinda. I never like smart girls, and … she's smart. She talks too much." He gave a soft chuckle. "She does not care what other people say about her. She makes me want to sit up and listen. She makes me start thinking of what I want to be, what I want to do, how far I can go if I try. No one would remember how well I dance or how many girls I have dated a few years down the road, but the world will change, for the better, if I put my heart into it."_

"_You admire her." Glinda tried to put things into perspective. _

_He shook his head._

"_I know that she's not pretty. Her dress sense is terrible. But somehow it does not matter. She sees me, the real me. No one has ever done that before." He shook his head. "I wanted to answer the questions in classes correctly. At first I thought that it was just to prove to her that I could do it… then one day I realised that it was because I wanted to impress her. I want to bring her to places and show her new things. I want to see her expression the first time she tries a new flavor of ice cream. I want her to laugh at the things I say." He looked at his palm. "I want to hold her hand, lock our fingers together. I want to hear her to talk to me, to argue with me. I want to hear her opinions. I want her face to light up when she sees me, to give me that smile that she only reserves for you and Boq. I want to bring her to Ozdust, but this time I will dance with her. I tried to tell myself that it was just a phase, but the more I did that the more I knew that it was not true. I know it's crazy to think like that, it defies logic, but I can't help it."_

_He turned to his girlfriend and saw the wetness that was flowing down her cheeks. He reached out a hand and wiped the tears away with his thumb._

"_I'm sorry, Glinda," he said, his voice softer. "I didn't mean for it to happen."_

_A group of students walked past and eyed them curiously. This was Suicide Canal, a place where couples came to make out. So Glinda did the thing that was expected of her. She turned his face to her and kissed him, hiding her tears from the passersby. She would fool everyone, and maybe even herself._

* * *

Glinda accepted the glass of wine that Elphaba had prepared for her and downed it at one shot. The green girl had fled into the kitchen the moment Glinda started on her story but Fiyero had no doubt that she could hear it from where she was, and had timed her return to coincide with the end of the story. The alcohol burnt her throat and the blonde coughed. Elphaba soothed her back as she tried to get her breath back. She took the glass from the girl and was about to go back to the kitchen when Fiyero grabbed her hand. He looked at her, willing her to stay. He wanted her to be around when he asked his next question.

"Why can't I remember all this?" he asked as he pulled Elphaba down to sit next to him. She pulled her hand away and reclaimed her seat next to Glinda, away from him.

Glinda dabbed her eyes with the lace handkerchief that she had found in her handbag.

"We stayed together in Shiz. It was what was expected of us, and everyone, including Boq and Milla, never suspected a thing. But you were careless. You lost your temper easily when people talked about her. There were a few times when you got angry and questioned everyone on why they were so empty-headed they believed everything that was said about Elphaba. Madame Morrible told me to warn you that your outspoken attitude would get you into trouble with the Wizard's men and put your life at risk. But you never listened."

"That does not answer my question," he said brusquely.

The blonde twisted the handkerchief with her fingers.

"I don't know what exactly happened…"

"But you have an idea."

She nodded tentatively.

_Glinda dreaded parties nowadays. She still loved parties, but increasingly, Fiyero had been making a scene of himself during social functions. And he had been drinking more. He used to drink only during weekends and holidays, but now he even drank on schooldays. But this was the annual year-end party, held to celebrate the end of the examinations, and everyone who was anyone would be there. There was no way she could skip it without setting tongues wagging. She was chatting with Pfannee about the latest fashion when a loud voice on the other side of the school hall drew her attention. She excused herself and made her way over, and was not surprised to see that Fiyero was the source of the commotion. Fiyero and Avaric._

"_Well, she shouldn't be born at all," Avaric shouted. Fiyero gave him a shove on his chest, and the blond staggered backwards. _

"_What do you mean?" _

"_Why, don't you understand the common Ozian language? I said that she should not be born. She is a freak, an abomination. She's green, for Oz's sake. Her parents should have done the world a favour by drowning her when she was born. Look what a terror she has grown into."_

"_You take back your words, Tenmeadows. She's innocent. She's been set up, and I know by whom."_

"_What if I don't?" the future Margreave sneered. "Are you going to beat me into a bloody pulp? You may not win, Tiggular." Avaric raised his fists in a boxing stance._

_Fiyero clenched his fingers. "Don't make me do this, Avaric," he growled._

_The Gillikinese hopped from foot to foot, a grin on his face. "What's with you anyway? Why are you so protective of her?" The grin widened. "Oh wait, don't tell me you have a crush on her. In the name of the Unnamed God," his voice turned incredulous when he noticed the slight change in Fiyero's expression. "You really have a crush on that green bean? Great Oz! I didn't know that you were so desperate."_

_Fiyero swore and lugged at his friend, but stopped at the sight of Glinda who had stepped into the circle._

"_Boys, boys," she said, her hand on Fiyero's chest, her voice an octave higher than usual, a saccharine smile on her face. "There is no need to fight over this. This conversation is getting interesting, but let's all agree to disagree. Now, would someone invite poor me for a dance?" she batted her eyelids at the two boys on each side of her._

_Fiyero looked at her and then at Avaric, his nose flaring. He turned and walked away. The crowd opened a path for him when they saw the look on his face._

_Glinda looked at his departing figure and then turned back to find Avaric exceedingly close to her._

_He gave a deep bow. "Well, well. It seems that our prince has decided not to dance with the most beautiful lady in the room. Lucky me then. Would you like to have a dance, Glinda?" _

_Glinda plastered a smile on her face and took out her compact mirror from her clutch purse, flipping it open easily with one hand and preened herself in the mirror. _

"_Oh my, I think I need to touch up my makeup. Excuse me, Avaric," she gave a dainty curtsey and walked away before Avaric could stop her._

_Glinda went to the corridor outside the school hall and looked for Fiyero, but he was nowhere to be seen. She moved from corridor to corridor, opened doors after doors, her agitation increasing as she found the corridors and rooms empty. Inside the hall, the music started again, changing to some fast dance music and it brought on an immediate headache. She needed to find Fiyero, and find him before he got into another fight. Just then, Madame Morrible appeared at the end of the corridor._

"_Good evening, Madame," she greeted the head mistress, trying to force a smile on her face._

"_Good evening, Miss Upland. Do you know where Mister Tiggular is? I heard from some students that he was creating a commotion."_

"_It was just a lively discussion, Madame." She tried to downplay the incident, but the head mistress would have none of it._

"_Really? I understand that he was defending the Wicked Witch of the West in public. I have spoken to you regarding his outrageous behaviour. I thought that you were a good influence, but it seems that you are unable to control him at all. You do know the repercussions, don't you, dear? There are spies everywhere." There was nothing affectionate in her voice._

_Glinda gulped. _

"_Madame, I am looking for him now. I assure you that this will be the last time it happens."_

"_Really?" the woman's eyebrows rose. "That was what you promised the last time. I don't see what's so difficult about this, but it seems that you are unable to deliver on your promise."_

"_But, Madame, but you see… It's really hard on us – on him, I mean." Glinda twisted her fingers uneasily._

"_Why is that so, Miss Upland? What is so hard about accepting the truth?"_

"_Madame, you don't understand. You see … you see…he can't help it." She paused. She could not really say it. _

"_What am I supposed to understand? Tell me. If he cannot help himself, maybe I can help him." Madame Morrible took a step forward and touched the girl's arm. The touch was cold, papery, with absolutely no warmth. But no one could be faulted for having cold skin. Madame Morrible might be a harsh head mistress, but perhaps she could help. Glinda was sure that she had their best interests at heart._

"_You see, Madame, he's thinks that he's in love with her. He is not, of course." Glinda clarified immediately. "He mixes up sympathy with love. That's why he can't help it. Love makes people do strange things." She laughed nervously._

_To her surprise, the older woman nodded her head with understanding. "I see. The poor prince. We shall all endeavor to help him, shan't we?"_

_Glinda nodded meekly._

"_Why don't you ask him to come to my office tomorrow, and I'll see if I can talk some sense into him," the older woman suggested. Glinda nodded again._

_Madame Morrible left the girl alone and Glinda continued to search around the premises. She finally found him sprawled on the grass outside, unconscious. There was no one around._

"You woke up after a while with a terrible headache. I thought that you fell and hurt yourself, or maybe Avaric had followed you outside and pushed you from behind, but you had no recollection of what happened. And you just stopped talking about Elphie after that."

"So you suspected that Madame Morrible did something?" he probed.

Glinda smoothed the handkerchief on her lap and twisted it again as she continued, her hands refusing to stop for even a single moment. "I don't know. I have never heard of a spell that can erase memories, let alone specific memories. It's not something that you can just walk into a library and find one whole shelf dedicated to it. I just thought that maybe you hurt your head when you fell. Or maybe you just came to your senses and decided not to talk about her anymore. Or maybe you willed yourself to forget her."

"I will never want to forget her," he insisted, looking at the green girl who looked away from him. He did not notice the sorrow in Glinda's eyes.

"And you never thought of asking me about it?" he asked.

"What do you expect me to do? I don't know what happened to you. I can't talk to anyone about it; there is no one I can trust. I don't even know if you would report to Madame Morrible if I talk to you about Elphie! Do you know how scared I was?" She could not help raising her voice, the tears threatening to spill again. "What if someone saw through my act? What if Madame Morrible decided that it would be good if I forget Elphie too?" The tears fell again, and Glinda rubbed at her eyes furiously, smudging her make-up further. Elphaba wrapped her arms around the blonde and gave Fiyero a reproaching look.

Glinda continued without further prompting.

"You began to show an interest in law and governance after that. You took an interest in the Wicked Witch of the West, and then started to obsess over her. The rest of us just didn't know what you were thinking, if you knew that Elphie and the Wicked Witch are the same person. During our final year, Madame Morrible was officially appointed as the Wizard's Press Secretary and left."

"I remembered that," he said. "And then you were appointed as Glinda the Good and went to Emerald City as well, and I signed up for the Gale Force." He grimaced as he recalled his interview for the Guards; he had stated during the interview that his reason for joining the Gale Force was to capture criminals such as the Wicked Witch of the West.

Glinda nodded her head.

Fiyero could not help but shudder. At these years when he believed that she was wicked, all those times when he went in search of her, with the intention to rid Oz of her menace. He could have killed her if any of the tips was reliable, if he had chanced upon her. There had been once, no, twice, when he had arrived at a scene and found the site hastily abandoned, some of the items left behind as the occupants left in a hurry, the food half-eaten. He could have met her if he had arrived earlier, and the possibility that she could escape would mean that he would shoot to kill. The thought that she could have died in his hands with him being none the wiser sent a shiver down his spine. He looked at Elphaba. Suddenly it seemed that she was not real, not there, even though she was seated just a hand-span away. He must have gasped or something, for Elphaba looked up sharply and gave him a worried look. Fiyero wanted so much to go straight to her and pull her into his arms, to feel her breath on his skin, to reassure himself that she was alive and not a figment of his imagination. Instead, he shook his head to let her know that he was alright and turned his attention to his fiancée again, to look at the woman whom he was beginning to see clearly for the first time in many years.

"So all this while you just let me go, time after time, to look for her, knowing that I would kill her if I saw her?" He heard himself asking. Glinda's eyes widened as the implications of the words sank in. Her voice turned shrill.

"What do you expect me to do, Fiyero?" Glinda pressed a fist to her heart. "I tried to ask you to leave the Guards so many times, but you wouldn't listen! Do you know how scared I was every time you went to search for her? I don't want either one of you to die!"

The floodgates opened again and Glinda cried into her tiny handkerchief. It was a while before she was calm enough to speak again.

"What should we do next?" Glinda asked after a while. It was a relief, to be able to offload the burden in her heart after so many years.

"Why did you come here in the first place?" Fiyero asked. "I thought you are busy with your preparations for your Round-the-Oz tour?"

She nodded. "I was supposed to have a meeting this morning but it was cancelled at the last minute, so I thought that I'd drop by your place. But you were not at home, and I thought that maybe you came here because it is more quiet…"

Fiyero swore at the bad timing.

He stood up.

"You didn't see us. You came, and the house was empty. I'm leaving with her," he gave Elphaba a look, "and nothing will change my mind."

"But what am I supposed to say? Everyone will ask me on your whereabouts!" Glinda was on the verge of tears again.

"You didn't see me. You didn't see her. You don't know anything. You would be distraught over my disappearance. If you still consider us as friends, you would not call the guards on us."

Fiyero reached for Elphaba's hand.

"I hope Chuffrey likes damsels in distress."

**A/N So here's the lyric that inspired this whole story – **

"**What happens if the cut, the burn, the break was never in my brain,****  
****or in my blood, but in my soul?" ~ ****Next to Normal's The Break.**

**Which makes me wonder – what happens if somehow Fiyero forgets Elphaba (the brain), but remembers her in his heart and soul.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

**AN : Shoutout to Guest for the review. Thanks!**

**Apologies for the delay. Real life has been very exciting (in a bad way) recently.**

"Elphaba!"

Elphaba covered her ears with her hands, trying to shut out his voice from the other side of the door, trying to ignore his knocks that shook the door on its frame.

She had fled the moment Glinda left, had run the moment she felt Fiyero's hand gentle on the small of her back. She had recoiled from his touch, a subconscious move, as if he was a creature so hideous and repulsive he should not see the light of the day, and the way he pulled his hand back immediately told her that he had felt it too.

She could not help it. The crushed look on Glinda's face as her world collapsed around her, the emerging hope on his. She wanted to go to the blonde, to comfort her best friend and swore that she would leave this place and would no longer contact Fiyero. The Arjiki prince would be hers, would belong to her, just like what it had been since the days at Shiz. But Glinda had gently pushed her hand away, and had put on a brave smile as she left the house.

Elphaba wanted to flail her hands wildly, to push away his words and actions that seemed to corner her, that pulled her into something that she knew she wanted more than anything else in the world but was so wrong. She wanted to turn back time. She wanted to be the one who could not remember him. She wanted to have a heart made of stone.

"Elphaba," his voice softened, unable to hide the plea in his voice. "Please, open the door." Elphaba shut her eyes, but she was unable to stop his voice from sinking into her skin, coating every single cell, touching every heartbeat. The hurt in his voice reverberated in her mind, and she let out a breath.

Elphaba reached for the door knob subconsciously, and then jerked her hand back when her fingers touched the cool doorknob as if it was red hot. She twisted her fingers together to prevent her hand from going to the doorknob again.

No.

"Please let me in." He sounded so close, as if the door was not between them, as if he was just next to her, his mouth a hair's breadth from her ear. She fumbled for the catch and bolted the door before her will could waver any further. The click alerted Fiyero to what she had done, and the Arjiki tried the door belatedly to no avail.

"Elphaba …" he begged. "Please … please say something."

Go away. Just go away.

He seemed to hear her thoughts. His voice ceased.

Elphaba slid to the floor, her eyes close. The only thing that she could hear was her breathing, laborious and erratic. That, and his voice that still reverberated in her mind, calling her name, calling for her. She looked at her hands. They shook uncontrollably. She grabbed her knees in an attempt to stop the shaking and took a deep breath before letting it out slowly, trying to calm herself down.

Slowly, other sounds began to invade her mind. A series of whistling, followed by a pause, only to start again. Bright, light and cheerful, as if everything was all right with the world.

She opened her eyes, trying to find the source of the sound. The windows were opened, and the sunlight streamed in. Outside, a pair of yellow warblers sat on a tree, their delightful sounds filling the air. It was only then that she realised she was in the bedroom, and not the study room as she had thought. She uncurled herself, and the birds seemed to notice her presence for the first time. The two birds fluttered its wings and flew close to the windows as if they were trying to see her clearly, hovering near to the glass. Elphaba moved across the room, and they flew away and landed on the grass. It was only then that she remembered then that she was on the ground floor. While the house was built from a height from the ground, Fiyero could still come in through the windows. She pulled the windows shut and locked the windows. She pulled the curtains close.

She crossed the room again and pressed an ear against the door.

Silence.

He was gone.

Elphaba sank to the floor.

Good Oz. This was all a mistake. Coming here. Staying the night. Letting Fiyero knew how she feel. She should have learned from her past experience not to trust her impulse, but obviously she had not.

She buried her face in her hands, wishing she could cry, but she had lost the ability to cry since the day she flew away from the Emerald City on her broom, and the whole world, which had never been receptive to her, condemned her.

Was it not enough to know that he cared? Was it not enough to know that he believed in her? Why must she be so selfish and take something that was not hers? Took the boy that belonged to her one and only friend? Why must she be so self-centered? She had wanted so few things in life, but it seemed that she was never destined to have any of them. She never got the acceptance that she craved from her father, the recognition from the Wizard. And now…

And yet, as she thought of this, she was dimly aware of a little flame inside, spluttering, a little flare of hope. He had said that he loved her. He had shown that he loved her. He loved her enough to want to go with her, enough to give up everything for her. Elphaba dug her nails onto her knees, trying to stop her hope from growing further.

Don't wish. Don't start.

She looked at the curtained window. She would stay in the room. She would stay in the room and avoid him. She would stay here until night fell and then she would sneak out and look for her broom. She would leave Emerald City and never see him again.

She bit her lip at the thought of not seeing him again.

Elphaba had not been in a house for a long time. There were always sounds in the forest; leaves rustling in the wind, the songs of the birds and animals and the cracking of the branches. Here, in the room, the quietness was unnerving. There was not a single sound to be heard in the enclosed room, except for the occasional creak of the furniture. Fiyero was somewhere, bidding his time, or perhaps he had left. She wanted to open the windows so that she could hear the wind or the birds, but did not dare to do so, lest the Arjiki prince made a crazy attempt to climb in. She paced in the room and gave the bed a wide berth, as if the furniture could poison her thoughts and further weaken her will. She tried to close her eyes and clear her mind but she was unable to do so; her thoughts kept going back to Fiyero, to Glinda and Fiyero, and back to him again. Her stomach growled as the afternoon passed, and she ignored it; a little hunger would not kill her.

After what seemed like an eternity, night fell. She opened the window slowly and looked out; there was no light from the rooms on either side and the windows to the study room was closed. She listened at the door, and it was only after she was sure that there was no sound outside that she gently unlocked the door. The corridor was dark and empty.

Elphaba tip toed out of the room. The whole house was shrouded in darkness and she wondered where Fiyero was. Had he gone after Glinda? Or had he given up and left? A little part of her heart sank at the thought.

The door to the study room was closed and Elphaba wrapped her fingers around the knob. It opened soundlessly. She slipped into the room and made her way to the couch in the dark, guided by her memory. She dropped to the floor and stretched her hand into the small gap between the couch and the floor, groping for her broom in the dark. Her fingers touched nothing but dust, and she gave a grunt as she pushed in further.

"It's not there," a voice said behind her as the door to the room swung close.

Elphaba scrambled to stand up, withholding a wince as her back hit the coffee table. The room brightened as Fiyero lit a light that was on the table next to the door. He had a broom in his hand. Her broom.

"Took me a while to find it," he admitted. He leaned against the door, blocking her escape route.

Elphaba looked at windows. She could see that they were locked even from where she was.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

Elphaba reached out her hand, palm up.

"Give it to me."

He twirled it around like a baton.

"Why? So that you can fly away from here?" He looked at the tip of the broom and then turned it upside down and scrutinized the broken bristles. "How does this thing operate anyway?"

"Fiyero," she called his name menacingly.

He chuckled, but his eyes were serious, boring into hers.

"Go back to your life, Captain."

He was silent for a while, and when he spoke, his voice was solemn.

"And do what? Continue to pursue you for the rest of my life even though I know that there is no such person as the _Wicked_ Witch of the West? That it is all a farce? Pretend that there is no history between us, nothing between us? Is that how you see me? Some kind of monster who can make love with you one day and hunt you the next?"

"Why do you want me to go back to a life that I don't want?" He asked.

She took a single step toward him, and then changed her direction without warning and went for the windows. She unlocked and yanked the windows open with one swift move, and lifted a knee up onto the ledge. She thought that she could make it but, at the last moment, a pair of hands grabbed her by her waist and pulled her back. She did not expect him to be so fast, or maybe she was just too slow. He slammed her against the wall and knocked the air out of her. She tried to push him away feebly, black dots swimming in her vision.

"Are you crazy," he hissed as he caught her wrists easily with one hand. She struggled, but he tightened his grip on her and she found that she could not move her hands. She tried to kick him, but somehow he managed to avoid it and sweep at her legs. She fell, bringing him down with her.

"Get… off.. me," she huffed. To her surprise, he eased off slightly, hovering over her. His hand reached for the broom that had dropped next to him.

She cast a glance at the prince, and then at the half-opened window. Perhaps she would be second-time lucky.

"Elphaba, please don't," Fiyero said, his eyes softening. Oz, which Vinkun god blessed him with that pair of perfect, puppy dog eyes?

He stood up, giving her space. "Why do you want to leave without me?" He offered a hand.

She did not take it. She backed off, and pulled herself up with the support of the wall. "Why do you want to leave with me?" she asked.

"I love you," he answered simply.

She tried to laugh, to give that cackle that she had used so many times when she was growing up, the laugh that meant to say that she did not give a damn about what other people said about her, the laugh that was supposed to show that she did not care. The laugh which Glinda never liked (and always reprimanded whenever she heard it) and the one which had the Fiyero cocking his head slightly whenever he heard it when they were in Shiz, as if he was trying to figure out what emotion she was hiding at that moment, as if he _knew_.

And he cocked his head now, looking at her quizzically, and then there was this slight tilting at the corner of his mouth, as if he had finally figured her out, and it unnerved her. He took a step closer.

"You're bored with your swanky, perfect life, Captain. You are just trying to escape from reality." There was nothing threatening with his approach, but Elphaba pressed her back against the wall. She took a quick glance at his hand, afraid that he would reach out and touch her. He would melt her resolve, she was sure of it. Magicked all her determination away with his touch, melted all her resistance with his warmth. She wanted to reach out for him, to touch him, to rest her fingers on his cheek, to pull him to her. She wanted to hear him say that everything would be all right. And she did not want that.

"I'm not escaping from reality, Elphaba. I'm escaping _with_ you," he replied as he stretched out his hand, the broom within her reach, but he pulled back when she reached for it.

"I'll walk out of here, Captain," she threatened. "I will make my way to the nearest guard post. I'm sure that they will be very glad to see the Wicked Witch of the West."

His eyes flickered. Was it fear? Fear that she would carry out her threat? He stretched out his hand slightly.

"I will just stand there if they aim their rifles at me. I will not resist if they want to handcuff me. I will not try to escape if they decide to kill me on the spot."

"And I will walk into the same station and tell them that I am in cahoots with the Wicked Witch of the West."

Elphaba gasped. "You can't. You are a member of the Gale Force. They'll kill you for being associated with me."

"Then let me go with you. Why is it always one step forward and two steps back for us, Elphaba? Isn't it clear enough what we have here? What we want?"

She shook her head. "You cannot always have what you want, Captain."

A little smile appeared on his lips, as if he knew that she would relent even before she knew it. "How would you know if we don't try?" he asked softly.

"This is wrong, Fiyero. Can't you see? You're hurting Glinda. You can't hurt Glinda."

"So is it alright to do that to me? All these years, I've always felt that something was missing. Something that I just can't explain. And now I have finally figured out what it is, and I've found it; this missing piece that will make my heart complete. Is it alright to take it away then, to take away what I want most?"

"You want fame, recognition, a luxurious life."

He shook his head, a sad smile at how wrong she was. "I want you." He said without hesitation.

She tried to straighten herself, to look at him in the eye. "You don't know a single thing about me. Who I am. What I do. I've killed before, Fiyero. I'm a murderer."

"And I haven't? What did they do anyway? Criticized your dress? Or were they trying to shoot you or harm some Animals? I don't know you, Elphaba, but I _know_ you. You wouldn't have killed them unless you were left with no choice. And if you really turn out to be a psycho maniac, I'll be there to stop you." He gave her a teasing smile.

The stupid little flame at the corner of her heart grew brighter.

"I'm not a saint. I've made mistakes."

"All the more you need me around, to stop you from making more mistakes. Two brains are always better than one, even if it's my brain." He laughed at his own joke. "For the record, even if you go without me tonight, I will go the end of Oz to find you." He tapped the broom on his thigh, on the spot where she had stitched him up previously. "You left something inside when you fixed my leg. A compass of some sort… it will point me to you. Always."

She could have laughed at his cheesiness. She should have, but she did not. He took another step forward, close enough for her to touch him. He pressed the broom into her hand, his fingers brushing against hers. He waited for her response.

"You're out of your mind." She ran out of arguments.

"We both know who's responsible for that," he said without a trace of humour. He brushed his thumb against her cheek and rested his forehead against hers. "I can't help it, Elphaba," he confessed. "I can't ignore what my heart needs." He lifted her chin and kissed her gently. She shuddered against his lips. He kissed her again.

"We can't," she whispered against his lips, not really knowing what she was talking about. His hand moved to the back of her head, pulling her close.

With her eyes closed, she wrapped her fingers around the broom as she returned his kiss, covering his fingers. How could this man hold so much magic with his words, so much persuasion with his kisses? How could she be so weak, so helpless before him?

Fiyero pulled her into his arms. All fight left her. She sank into his embrace, but did not wrap her arms around him. She was not going to embrace him for his hell-bent decision to ruin his whole life just to be with her. This crazy, insane decision.

"Does it hurt?" he touched her shoulder blades gently after a while.

"No," she lied, perhaps with more force than necessary.

Fiyero chuckled, and he rubbed circles on her back to sooth the pain.

* * *

He made dinner, adding meat into the pot after he had dished out her portion. The two of them ate silently, but Elphaba could not help but look at him frequently, at the handsome Arjiki who was wolfing down his share of the meal as if he had no worries in the world. He looked up once in a while and flashed a dazzling smile at her.

Brainless fool.

He washed up after dinner and started to close up the house, pulling her from room to room and refusing to let her out of his sight. It was strange, watching him do all the domestic chores as if they were just going on a short trip. They could be flying to their deaths for all she knew.

"Can I bring anything?" he asked.

She looked at him, puzzled.

"Anything that you can use?"

She shook her head, out of habit more than anything else.

But he did pack some stuff – the remaining uncooked food (no meat), some clothes, his medical supplies and knives. He made her put on one of his coats.

He left his spare Gale Force uniform in the wardrobe.

They went to the garden. There was a wind blowing, and Elphaba was glad for the warmth that his coat offered.

Fiyero mounted the feeble looking stick.

"So," he looked at the broom. "How does it work?"

"She," she corrected him, and the prince raised his eyebrows without a word. She gestured for him to move back and swung a leg over the broom.

"I thought I'm going to guide it? Guide her?"

She shook her head. "I'll do it. I have no idea how the broom will react with all the extra weight."

"It's all muscles, not a single inch of fat," he protested, but there was a smile on his face as he wrapped his arms around her. "I'm sure you know that from last night."

Elphaba turned her head away, not wanting him to see her face turning red.

"Let's go. And remember, don't let go," she reminded him as she tilted her broom slightly upwards.

"I'll never let go," Fiyero whispered into her ear as he tightened his arms around her and she knew that he was not just talking about not releasing his hands mid-air.

The extra weight seemed to mean nothing to the magicked broom. It rose slowly as directed by Elphaba and then slowly gained speed when they were high enough.

The journey was uneventful, as uneventful as a flight on a broom could be, and they landed in the middle of a forest some time later.

"Where are we?" He asked the moment his feet touched the ground, trying not to let his weak legs show. He knew that she had deliberately flown slower for him and it bruised his ego.

"Somewhere in Munchkinland," was her reply as a light began to glow in her hand. It cast shadows on her face, highlighting her weariness, the lines on her face.

"Where in Munchkinland?" The need to know everything, to be in charge, was too much.

"You don't need to know, Fiyero," she replied sharply as she walked away without him. He gave his legs a few more moments before he followed her, but braked when the green girl stopped suddenly. She looked back at him.

"Fiyero?"

Fiyero caught up with her.

"What's the matter?"

"This is your last chance. Once you join me, there will be no turning back. You will no longer be a respected member of the public. You can no longer trust anyone, not even your family and your closest friends. You will be a fugitive, hunted by people whom you used to work with, hated by the public. Vilified. Ostracized. A pawn to be used for political gains. Every night could be your last."

He had to laugh at the severity of her tone. "I think there was no turning back since the day I knocked you down at Shiz."

She frowned for a moment, but he it was soon replaced by a tiny smile on her lips. She reached for his hand and interlaced their fingers.

Fiyero spun her into his arms and kissed her. The light in her hand flared.

* * *

Elphaba's latest 'home' turned out to be somewhere in Wend Fallows.

"Captain?" Acorn dropped his jaw, and dropped the half-eaten berry that he was holding with his paw.

"I believe that we have not been formally introduced," Fiyero shook the bear's sticky paw. "The name is Fiyero. Fiyero Tiggular."

The Bear grinned, flashing his sharp teeth.

Fiyero looked at his surroundings. Like the previous homestead, Elphaba's latest residence was situated within a small clearing. Between two large trees was a run-down cabin, its door hanging from its hinges and with several broken windows. There was a hole on the roof.

He looked at Elphaba. She shrugged.

"We found this place a few weeks ago and we are still in the midst of setting up."

Fiyero looked at the cabin again, mentally assessing the effort that would be required to make it livable. He dropped his bag onto the ground and rolled up his sleeves as he marched towards his new home.

"I suppose it's time to start w – " Something dark fell from the sky. Screeches and sharp claws were suddenly all around him. Behind him, Fiyero could hear Elphaba's shouts as he struggled with his attacker. It was a while before he managed to grab the thing and tried to fling it away.

"No!" Elphaba shouted.

Fiyero stopped in the midst of throwing the aggressor off. It was only then that he managed to take a good look at the thing in his hands.

To call it a thing was definitely incorrect. It was a monkey, with brown matted fur, long limbs and intelligent eyes. The monkey grinned, showing off even rows of yellowish teeth and Fiyero felt silly for overreacting. And then the grin widened and a pair of wings unfurled from its back. Fiyero shouted something in Arjiki, he could not remember what, and dropped the animal. The monkey should have hit the ground, but it flapped it wings languidly and it hovered in the air for a while before it landed safely on the ground.

"It's a flying monkey." Fiyero looked at Elphaba, wide-eyed in disbelief.

* * *

"Madame Morrible told me that the spell was irreversible, that there was no way I could undo it. I …" She gripped her dress and twisted the fabric between her fingers. Fiyero wrapped his fingers around hers. Chistery, the Monkey, placed his hand on top of theirs, and it drew a smile from the green girl. "I panicked. I grabbed the Grimmerie and pulled Glinda's hand and ran. There were so many corridors, so many doors along the corridors, so many staircases. There were guards everywhere and I could hear her voice calling for my arrest. Somehow, we managed to avoid all the guards and ran into a store room or an attic. It was so dusty inside, and ... Glinda coughed. I just … I flipped through the book. I just kept thinking that if there was a spell that could make monkeys spout wings, then there must be one that could save us. But no matter how I flipped, the other pages were empty. I went back to the only page with words and just read it. I was… " she looked at him, wanting him to understand. "I was half expecting wings to grow on me… " She shook her head at the ridiculous memory. "The broom appeared. I wanted Glinda to go with me, but… the guards broke down the door and I had to go."

"Glinda chose to stay." It was a statement, not a question.

Elphaba looked at him, and her brown eyes were filled with so much pain that he could not help but touch her cheek, wanting to wipe the sadness away. She turned her face away.

"Fiyero. It's not what you think." Chistery chirped in agreement.

"Eh Ro," the Monkey added, an almost perfect enunciation of his name, as if it had heard his name many times before.

Fiyero stood up.

"She chose the easier way. She chose the winning side. She stayed, and then what? Struck a bargain with the Wizard? Betrayed her best friend in exchange for power and riches?"

Elphaba shook her head.

"Fiyero, it's not what you think," she repeated. "Glinda – she is never the kind who would go against authority."

"She's not as brave as you."

She shook her head again.

"She is braver than me. She is braver than anyone I know. She chose to stay, and she worked her way from inside. Every time I see progress being made, I know that it is due to her. Every time something good happened, I know it is due to her. Don't you see it?"

It was his turn to shake his head.

"Fiyero, I know that you are angry with her for not telling you the truth. But what do you expect her to do? Sorcery is beyond her, and she knows that spells are irreversible. She loves you, and I know that she will never hurt you. Do you remember the day that you shot me?"

Fiyero knelt down and took her hand. "Elphaba, I'm sorry – " She quickly put up her other hand to stop him from continuing.

"Listen. Do you remember that day? The guards locked me up in the basement. I didn't escape on my own." She did not, because she was too dejected after finding out that Doctor Dillamond had lost all his speech and was behaving like an animal, after seeing how Fiyero had changed. "She saved me. She added laxatives to the guards' food so that they had to leave my cell unguarded. She found my broom and led me through the secret stairways to a secluded part of the palace so that I could escape. How could someone who only cares about power and riches do that?"


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

**AN Some light-hearted moments here.**

After the first night, Fiyero realised that the corner that Elphaba had assigned him for sleep was most likely a permanent arrangement. His years in the Guards meant that he was not really particular about where he slept so long as there was a place to sleep, but he could see two problems with the arrangement. Firstly, he was not with her. Secondly, her bed was on the other side of the room.

As the last light faded from the forest grounds on his second night in the forest, Fiyero took a deep breath and made his way across the room, trying his best to avoid Acorn who had curled up against a leg of the table that was in the middle of the room.

He climbed into her bed and wrapped his arms around her.

"I'm cold." He pretended to shiver as he buried his face into the crook of her neck.

"Go and sleep with Acorn. He has enough fur to keep a whole village warm," the green girl quipped.

"I don't want to be _that_ warm," Fiyero laughed, his breath causing her fine hair to tickle his nose. "And he has bad breath. You don't." And he kissed her deeply to convince her.

* * *

He was not used to being supervised, and she was not used to leaving things in other people's hands, so she checked on him regularly when he worked on the hut during the day. He would not have minded if she was there to see him, but she was not. She gave some comments here and there and even took over a couple of times to show him 'how it should be done'. She called him Captain when she disagreed with him. He worked without his shirt to distract her.

"I have experience in building shelters in the Thousand Year grasslands and the great forests of Oz," he reminded her.

"Makeshift shelters that cannot withstand anything more than a drizzle, you mean. _I_ have been building stable structures with nothing since I left Shiz, Captain," she retorted.

"Do that again." He smiled, amused.

"Do what?" She snapped at him, annoyed by what she deemed as his shameless tactic to divert attention away from his inadequacy in carpentry.

"Do that again. That hands-on-your-hips gesture when you called me Captain." He copied her action. "You looked absolutely adorable when you are mad. It makes me want to kiss you." His grin widened.

She growled at him and _nearly_ put her hands on her hips but caught herself at the last minute. Instead, she folded her arms in indignation, huffed and stomped away.

Fiyero laughed. Chistery chortled.

Fiyero continued to work on the window that he was fixing, hammering good naturedly as he recalled the expression on Elphaba's face when she realised that he was actually teasing her. Suddenly, a shadow seemed to fall across his mood, darkening it, and his smile dropped.

* * *

She should have expected it. She should have known that it was too much to ask for, too good to be true, too good to last. After all, she had uprooted him from his luxurious life into the life of a fugitive, living in the middle of nowhere without even the basic necessities. She had turned his life upside down, turned black into white, and showed him a world where what he had believed were truths in the past few years had turned out to be nothing but lies.

It started a few days after he came. A pause, as if something was troubling him. She would find him staring at the air or at the ground, his brows knitted together. Sometimes, he did his work too fast, hammered too fast and too hard, as if he was on an automated mode, like a tik-tok that she had seen once that had kept on marching even though there was a wall before it. At night, he stared at the ceiling when he thought that she had fallen asleep in his arms.

He still smiled at her. He always had a smile for her whenever he saw her looking at him, though sometimes the smile looked strained. It hurt her to see that he was hiding his emotions so that he would not hurt her.

She stood in front of him one day, after she had caught him staring at the hammer in his hand for hours.

It took him some time before he noticed that she was there.

He looked up. The easy smile refused to come, and there was a tightening around his eyes.

She took a step forward and took the first step; she brushed her fingers against his cheek. It was ridiculous, how she had surrendered her body to this man, yearned for his touch, and yet sometimes she still flinched if he touched her first.

He put his hands on her hips and rested his head on her stomach. She drew in a shaky breath.

She ran her fingers through his short hair, giving him time. He looked up after a while.

"Why did she do it?" he asked.

"Who?" She knew who he was referring to of course.

He did not answer, but continued instead. "She knew that I loved you, she suspected that Morrible had cast a spell on me. So why didn't she tell me about it? Why did she have to pretend that we were still together and that I loved her? How could she live in such deceit, knowing that my love for her was not real? Knowing that I was in love with her best friend?"

"She didn't know, Fiyero."

He shook his head. "She knew. She told us that I had told her after you were gone. But she chose to ignore it. She just took the chance to grab something that did not belong to her and pretended that it did. I'm not an object, Elphaba. I'm not a thing to be possessed."

"What did you expect her to do? Do you think that you would believe her if she had told you that someone had taken a part of your memories? Do you think you would believe her if she had told you that you liked the Wicked Witch of the West?"

"Love," he corrected her, his eyes flashing. "And you're not the Wicked Witch of the West. You're Elphaba, stubborn green girl."

She laughed softly on his need for technicality even in the mid of an argument.

"And she loved you. She had always loved you. And she didn't know that I … that I felt something for you. You're Fiyero Tiggular, you only date pretty girls. The idea of you liking -"

"Love."

She rolled her eyes. "Alright. That idea… it's absurd. It's ridiculous. It's impossible."

"Just because I wear a white shirt every day does not mean that my favourite colour cannot be green." He was adamant.

"She loved you, Fiyero. She loved you enough to put up with your obsession with your work, to live with the dreadful truth that you actually liked – " She quickly put up a finger to stop him from correcting her. "- someone else. And who's to say that you didn't love her? I'm sure you had feelings for her or you would have broken up with her long ago. And I am sure you were happy with her. You stayed with her even before Morrible intervened. I'm sure that counts for something."

He frowned as he thought about it, and then he was pulling her to him.

"It's hard to win an argument with you," he said. "You're too logical."

"Because it's the truth. She loves you, Fiyero."

"She's selfish," he continued.

"Love is selfish."

"To some, perhaps. To others … look at you, you just went off like that. You never came back for me."

"I didn't know, Fiyero. I didn't know … about you." She gestured helplessly.

He chuckled and shook his head again. "Do you know something? I think that even if you knew, even if I have confessed my love to you before you went to the Emerald City, you would still leave me, because that's just like you, to put yourself down, to see yourself as the least important. Maybe you should learn from her, be more selfish in your love. Can you do that? Be more selfish, more demanding in your love?"

"I am selfish, Fiyero. I took you away from her."

"I made you do it," he corrected her again.

He stood up and cradled her face in his hands.

"Elphaba, I want you to know I never regret my decision, I never regret for a single moment. You should know that."

She broke apart. "But you're not … happy." Her voice softened at the last word, as if it was a foreign concept, something that she had not thought of or explored for a long time. She reached out tentatively, still not familiar with the idea that he was hers to touch, that he was hers. He took her hand and brushed his lips against her wrist.

"I never regret a single moment, Elphaba," he repeated again, afraid that she did not catch it the first time when he said them. "And I never will."

* * *

She was late. She always flew off during the daytime, though she had never told Fiyero why, but she was always back before sunset. On that particular day, the sun was setting but there was no sight of her.

Fiyero panicked.

"Where could she be?" he asked Acorn.

The Bear shrugged. "She could be anywhere."

The Bear was obviously used to her erratic timing, but not Fiyero. He paced outside the house waiting for her and then dived into the house the moment the sky went dark, searching for her one and only lamp which she rarely used. He lit the lamp, and was about to barge headlong into the forest when he saw a tiny glow among the trees in the distance.

Elphaba.

He ran towards the light.

He stopped short when he realised that she was not alone. With her were four Sheep, one of them limping, another trembling badly, and they froze when they saw the dark skin Arjiki and his diamond tattoos. Elphaba shot him a look.

"It's alright. He's a friend," she reassured the Animals, her voice steady and calm. Her hands came up slowly, as if ready to stop them if they ever bolted. "We'll be there soon," she added and the idea of a sanctuary seemed to spur them on.

They reached the hut and Elphaba quickly closed the door behind them to ward off the chill.

"Get them some blankets. He," she gestured to the Sheep that was trembling, "fell into the water. Can you dry him?"

Fiyero did as he was told as Elphaba went out to the garden at the back of the hut to get some food for the Sheep. The Sheep that had fallen into the water was an old elderly Animal and his lips had turned blue. Fiyero had not interacted with Animals in years, and had never taken care of one, but he tried his best. The youngest of the flock tottered over on four spindly legs and leaned against the older Sheep.

"Baaaaa," the Lamb asked. His voice tugged at Fiyero's heart. He supposed that the Lamb was born after the Animal Banns was declared, and most probably had to hide among sheep, giving him no chance to learn how to speak and walk on two legs.

The elder Sheep stroked the Lamb's soft fur. "She's the Witch of the West, Sweetpea, and she'll help us." The Lamb nodded, and closed his eyes as he snuggled close to the other Animal.

They told their story the next day. The family of three had hidden in the forests of Munchkinland after the Animal Banns was announced, but with the pending birth of the Lamb, they decided to take a risk and hide in a sheep farm so the baby did not have to be born in the wild. The Lamb was born, and all was well, until one day the Lamb's father was caught reading to his son a book left by one of the farmhands. The farmer threatened to slaughter them, and they broke out of the paddock, and had been on the run since then.

"We're willing to go anywhere, so long as we could be safe and free, and have the rights to live as Sheep, to speak, to walk on two legs, and not as slaves or animals," Sweetpea's mother said as she looked lovingly at her child. Sweetpea looked back, and baaed.

Fiyero later discovered that their setup was not unique; there were many such stations around Oz, operated by people who were sympathetic to the Animals' plight and who were against the Wizard. They were rest stations for Animals or meeting points for resistance members. But Elphaba, with her broom, was the only person who could searched for Animals that needed help from the air, and to coordinate with the other members on whom should bring the Animals to safety. She took up the job without complaint, but Fiyero could feel that she was antsy; they were always reacting to events, while she wanted to be proactive.

In the next few months, Fiyero encountered a large variety of visitors, both human and Animals. Among them were a family of Antelopes on the run who had committed no offence except for resisting when the Wizard's army came for the father, an unlikely pair of a man and a Hare and a lone resistance member who seemed to visit her regularly and who knew Yackle by name.

None of the Animals that were on the run had ever met Elphaba, but her reputation and unique colour preceded her. "It's the Witch of the West," they would say in awe, the pure adulation in their eyes when they recognized her by her green skin. Their weariness seemed to wear off the moment they saw her, and hope would return to their eyes.

The Animals might not have money, but they repaid her in various ways; some of them would help out if possible, while others gave her food and useful things under the pretence that they were no longer needed. One of them claimed that a large blanket was useless to her. "It is actually pretty useful. You can hang it like a curtain, like for your bed. There are some things that little Acorn should not see and should not hear," she chuckled as she gave Fiyero a pointed look. The prince could not help but blushed to the roots of his hair.

Assisting the Animals was not Elphaba's only job. She had a liaison that would meet her every month and passed herbs and medical supplies to her. She, in turn, would divide them into smaller portions and deliver them to some of the stations that were in the outlying regions or on inaccessible sites. These usually took about two or three days, and Fiyero would take care of the Bear and Monkey (if Chistery was there) when she was gone. She also participated in rescue missions, which could take up to weeks from the planning to the rescue to the placement of the Animals. She could also be called at a moment's notice when a team member suddenly dropped out. Her ability to reach a place faster than anyone else had its advantages, but it also meant that sometimes she was stretched beyond her limits. But she always helped no matter how busy or tired she was.

Fiyero would always know when she was going on one of those missions. She would withdraw into her own shell, stop making eye contact, and turn away from him when they were in bed. He had thought that she was mad at him the first time it happened, and her failure to articulate did not make things better. It was as if she was trying to get used to not having him around, or perhaps she felt guilty for leaving him behind. When she returned, she would be exhausted and reticent, and sometimes it would take him days of effort, hovering around her, touching her incessantly, even resorting to childish tickles sometimes, before the smile returned to her face and she was herself again.

She was also adamant on other things; how he got to live by her terms, the need to refrain from acting out his desires based on her irregular cycle and when there were visitors in the house. He was no longer that testosterone -driven boy that he was last time, but it still drove him crazy. It made him feel like a toy sometimes, and he knew that she knew, but he could not help it.

"I'm like a slave in your harem," he pouted one day when he managed to catch her alone in the garden when the house was filled with half a dozen Animals, looking at her with his puppy dog eyes. "Just one of the many hundreds sitting here waiting for you to walk by one day, for you to turn your head and notice me and then beckon me with your finger if I strike your fancy." She laughed, tickled by his storytelling ability, but she did bestow a kiss on him, and she did let him know when she thought that it was safe, beckoning him into the house before she closed the door and shyly dropped her dress.

"My queen", he pledged his allegiance as he kissed his way down, oblivious to everything but her scent, her kiss, her touch.

* * *

It had been raining non-stop for the past few days, imprisoning the green girl in the house. She spent her days alternately between pacing non-stop in the small confined area and glaring at the sky through one open window or another, as if she could glare the sky into submission. She snapped at Fiyero, Chistery and Acorn over the smallest matter. The two Animals took it in stride, but Fiyero was hurt. He knew that she would not be the only person who would be glad to see the rain stopped. _If_ it stopped. He looked miserably out of the window.

Elphaba huffed, as if she was the only person entitled to her misery.

"I'll go and take a look at the greens," he offered. There was no reply from her.

Fiyero had strung up a makeshift sheet above the vegetable plot when the rain started, and he was glad that the idea worked – the vegetables were protected from the heavy pounding of the raindrops. He picked a few stalks of the fully grown vegetables, arranging them in his hand so that they looked almost like a bouquet of flowers. They would be eaten sooner or later, but there was no stopping them from looking beautiful before that. He plucked some wild yellow flowers from the grass under the nearby bushes and stuck them in between the leaves. He hoped that the impromptu arrangement would cheer her up.

He went back to the house and found her sitting on the bed, a book in her hand. She looked up briefly and frowned at the watery mess that he had made on the floor. He had never seen this book before, and it piqued his curiosity. Fiyero shook the water out of the vegetables before he placed it on the table. He stripped out of his wet clothes and put on dry ones, making sure that his hands were completely dry before he made his way to her. He would show her the flowers later.

He sat next to her and tried to peek at the book that was in her hands. It was old, the pages yellow with age and dotted with brown spots, the edges curled and well-thumbed. Fiyero tilted his head, trying to catch the words in the faint light, but he could not see the ink no matter how he looked.

"What are you reading?" he whispered.

The green girl looked at him, not comprehending.

"It's… blank," he added, choosing his words carefully.

She looked at the book, and then back at him again, and he knew that she was thinking, deciding. He kept quiet, giving her the time to run through her thoughts. He knew her well enough to know that she needed that.

She pursed her lips and, without a word, took his hand and placed it on the open page, her eyes searching his face for a reaction. He almost missed it, assuming that it came from her hand that was covering his, her fingers that were between his. It was only after a while that he realised that the warmth were just on his fingertips and the base of his palm which were in contact with the paper. And then he felt it, at the skin where his and her fingers touched. They felt like the small mouths of tiny fishes, pushing and jostling, gathering around Elphaba's hand as if they were nibbling at her skin. But the paper remained blank. He took a sharp intake of breath and looked at her, questions forming in his mind. She pressed his palm down on the paper and took her hand away, and the warmth and the feeling receded.

No, it was not the book. It was the book and _her_.

Fiyero moved his hand away from the book. It seemed almost sacrilege to touch it now that he knew what it was. He observed her as she closed the book and put it away, her movement slow and lethargic, as if showing him what the book actually was had drained so much out of her.

She turned back, flickered her eyes at him and away again. It was then that he realised that she had not said a single word since he had come to her bed. She looked down at her calloused hands, perhaps waiting for him to say something, perhaps waiting for him to come to his senses and decided that he would rather take his chance with the elements rather than to spend another moment with a witch who could make a book come alive.

It was times like this that he realised how inadequate he was in comforting her.

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles before he moved on to kiss her lips, his thumb gentle against her cheek.

"Have I ever told you the time when I burnt down my father's library?" He asked when they drew apart. A look of horror fleeted across her eyes, and Fiyero chuckled.

"Well, _nearly_ burnt it down. It happened the year before I left Vinkus for Gillikin…"

* * *

"It's going to be Lurlinemas soon," he said as he approached her from behind. Elphaba paused in her steps, and he knew that she had heard him.

He stopped right behind her. She leaned against him, a silent apology for her crappy attitude the past week when the rain refused to let up. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her shoulder.

"Do the Vinkuns celebrate Lurlinemas?" She asked.

He shook his head. "Not really. We have our own festivals, though some of the merchants who had gone to the east had been influenced by the outside world. By now the whole tribe would have gathered at Kiamo Ko and the whole castle would be bustling with winter activities."

"Do you miss them?"

He thought for a while.

"I guess I do."

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" He turned her around. "What for?"

She looked down. "Separating you from your family…" her voice was small.

He lifted her chin.

"I thought that we've discussed this before? It's my decision to stay. They won't miss me anyway; I'm never around. It makes no difference whether I am there or not. I want to stay. I want to be with you."

The green girl stayed quiet.

"Let's talk about something else. Tell me about magic. I can't live with the Witch of the West and not know a single thing about magic." He tried to distract her instead.

"Magic?" Her eyes widened.

"Yes. You know, like those glow balls that you made, or making a broom fly. Or turning a soldier into a slobbering fanboy." He added the last sentence teasingly, but he noticed how her eyes softened and he knew that she was thinking of what Morrible had done to him.

She placed her hand gently on his chest, and it was a while before she collected her thoughts.

"I don't know, Fiyero. It's all so grey to me. What is magic? What is sorcery? I have these powers since I can remember. Some people call it a curse, others call it a blessing. Madame Morrible called it a talent."

"Well, if I look it up in a dictionary, they would most probably have your picture next to that word," he said with a chuckle.

She shook her head.

"I'm not talented. I'm out of control."

"You're powerful and need to learn how to control it. Just like how a person needs to know his limits so that he will not overwork himself, or how a child needs to learn how not to crash onto a table while learning how to walk."

"I know what is real magic," Elphaba said after a while.

"What?"

"Nature. How the trees grow again after a fire has wiped out the entire forest. How a tree knows when it should drop its leaves before winter comes to conserve water. How the four seasons work together to let the land rejuvenates year after year. How an animal parent knows instinctively what to do to take care of its children. How a chameleon changes colour to hide from its enemy. How a salmon knows that it should go back to its birth place to spawn. How the sun rises and sets every day without fail. How people learn to love and sacrifice. _That_ is magic."

* * *

Madame Morrible made a circle as she walked around the soldier. His eyes looked ahead, his back straight, his chest out, but there was this slight trembling that told the Press Secretary that he was afraid of her. Very good. She had summoned him all the way from Munchkinland to give a first-hand account on the rescue of the Captain of the Guards. It was always good to double check the Captain's statement, in view of the present circumstance.

"And you said that you found the Captain tied to the tree?"

"Yes, Madame. He had been there for many days. There were leaves on his head and dirt on him."

"Was there anyone around? Any evidence left behind?"

"No Madame. We did a search, and there was nobody around. Everything was burnt to the ground, Madame Press Secretary."

"Really." There was no reply from the soldier.

Morrible continued.

"I believe that you are a good soldier." She noticed how the empty flattery made him straightened his stance. Idiot. "I need you to remember as much as possible, Soldier. The Captain has been…" she gave a dramatic pause and swung her arms so that her wide sleeves puffed. "We have reasons to believe that he may not be as loyal to the Wizard as we thought. Any information that you can give will be very helpful. The Wizard treasures men who are loyal to him, Soldier, and such men are usually generously rewarded. Anything, Soldier. Anything you've observed that is peculiar or out of the ordinary."

The soldier took some time to think and finally came out with something after a while.

"He worshipps the Munchkin saints, Madame Press Secretary."

Madame Morrible had to stifle a laugh behind her hand.

"That is very helpful, Soldier. The Wizard thanked you for your assistance," she said a dismissive tone.

The man knew that he had lost his one and only chance, and his shoulders slumped as he turned and walked out of the room. Madame Morrible called him back at the last moment.

"Wait a minute. Do you mean that he called for Saint Glinda when he was in pain?" It would be ironic if Fiyero had called for Glinda when he was in pain, like a baby calling for his mother.

The soldier did not dare to correct her that Saint Glinda was not a Munchkin saint.

"No, Madame. He did not call for Saint Glinda. He called for Saint Aelphaba as he was regaining conscious, Madame. He just kept mumbling 'Aelphaba' over and over again."


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Fiyero woke up one night to sounds outside the cabin. Elphaba had gone for another rescue mission, or that was what he assumed, since she would never tell him anything until she was back. He sat up and listened, and it was a while later before he heard it again. It was the sounds of feet shuffling, not the rustling of the leaves or the scuttling of some small animals. Someone was outside the cabin. He got out of bed and looked for his dagger, gripping it tightly before he stepped out of the hut.

Elphaba was outside, facing the full moon, her hands held up. The moonlight shone on her face, turning everything silvery-black, the different colours on the high-collar dress that she always wore when she went out (he suspected that it was because it covered up almost every inch of her skin, and, on top of that, made her looked intimidating) shimmering like a midnight rainbow. She turned hands slowly, like a ritualistic maiden dance, and he saw the croaked lines and crisscrosses on her palms and wrists, glistering in the semi-darkness.

Chistery was with her, and the Monkey saw the prince.

"Eh Ro," he alerted the woman who had given him the gift of flight, but Elphaba did not seem to hear him, engrossed in her own thoughts, fascinated by the beauty of her injuries. He went up to her and touched her gently. His touch seemed to trigger something in her and she crumbled into his arms, shivering violently like the last leaf in the strong winter wind.

Fiyero carried her back into the house, with Chistery following closely behind.

His return roused Acorn from his sleep.

"Fae?" the Bear mumbled.

"Go back to sleep, Acorn," Fiyero told him as he gently placed Elphaba on their bed, still shivering. "Elphaba's back, but she tired. You can talk to her tomorrow."

Chistery half-hopped to the Bear and settled down next to the other Animal. He gave his wings one last flap before his eyes closed.

The Bear mumbled something about the lack of space before he went back to sleep.

Fiyero brought a light and placed it on the bed, the curtain drawn so that the faint light would not wake up the Animals. He cleaned and bandaged the burns on her hands, and wiped the soot off her face before he gently eased her out of her dress. His hands moved all over her body in the dim light, touching her, probing her shaking body for any other injuries. Her trembling subsided by the time he was satisfied that there was no other physical injuries beside the burns on her hands.

He knew that something was wrong, but she was not talking, and he knew that she would not talk until she was ready. He laid her on the bed, draping her with a shirt of his, and wrapped his arms around her, running his fingers through her hair until her ragged breaths calmed down and her eyes fluttered close.

He woke up a few hours later to the feeling of her fingers on his face. The moonlight came in through one of the windows, bathing her in an ethereal glow. There was something on her face, sadness maybe, perhaps regret, he did not know.

A lock of hair fell across her face, and Fiyero tucked it gently behind her ear.

"I missed you," he said, and then she pushed him on his back and she was on top, kissing him, her bandaged hands everywhere, touching his face, his chest, her short nails raking his skin.

"Elphaba? What –"

She silenced him by kissing him hard on his mouth and the hand on his chest traced downwards, tugging at his pants. His breath hitched. They were always careful, planning their love making around her irregular cycle. It frustrated Fiyero sometimes, how much she expected him to keep his desires in check. He glided his hands to her thighs and teased her bare skin, watching her as her breathing quickened and her fingers tightened on him. He flipped her over and held her hands over her head as he kissed her, taking control.

They moved together in the semi-darkness. Quiet but loud. Rough but gentle.

There were always people who would made use of the Animals' plight to their advantage. Some of them had kept a group of Animals as slaves in Quadling, making them work as labourers by day, and locking them up at night to prevent them from escaping. Elphaba and her accomplices arrived in the middle of the night, when the Quadlings were supposed to be asleep. They were discovered. The Animals were kept in a pen, and one of the men put it to the torch.

"I could hear them begging for help when the fire caught. There was some water nearby but it was not enough. There was a bunch of keys but it took us so long before we found the key that could unlock the padlock. By then the fire had spread throughout the pen and it burnt their coats. They were screaming, begging me to save them, screaming, burning, burning right in front of me..." She looked at her bandaged hands. "Melting … that smell…" The words choked in her throat and she clung onto him, her body trembling, reliving that terrifying moment.

They managed to save most of the Animals, but two of them perished in the flames. Two more died when they were crossing the desert to Ev. One of them died due to his extensive injuries. The other died because she refused to eat; her partner was one of the two who had died in the fire.

"I supposed we should have expected that. The other Animals said that the two of them were always together, never one without the other. They said that he gave up a chance to escape a few months ago because it meant leaving her behind. Her eyes were already dead when she saw his charred body. It just took the rest of her a longer time to die; she just did not want to live without him." Elphaba rested her face in the croak of his neck, a hand on his chest. He wrapped an arm around her and she closed her eyes. In the silence that followed, she concentrated on his breathing; the way his chest rose and fell under her hand, and relished the sound of his steady heartbeat.

"You save, what, ten of them?" Fiyero asked after a while. "Without you, they will be slaving until the day they die. Doesn't that count for something?" He knew how empty his words were. She wanted to save all of them, and saving only ten was a failure. Her failure. It was tantamount to her burning them alive.

"You should go." She pushed him away and sat up on the bed.

"What?" he asked as he sat up, his front brushing against her back, and wrapped both arms around her. She did not pull away, and he knew that she did not mean it, or maybe she meant it but she did not want him to go. This push and pull that he was so familiar with by now, not a test of his devotion as with the other girls, but the conflicting emotions that she felt because she loved him but she feared for his safety because he was with her, because every day could be his last, simply because he had made a crazy, irrational choice.

"One of these days you will die a terrible death, Fiyero. All because you are with me. Morrible has taken your memories. She won't hesitate to kill you because you are now openly defying her."

"I'm not leaving."

"Then maybe I will."

"And leave me with a Bear and a Monkey? That's cruel," he tried to lighten the mood.

"Don't do that to me, please. Don't leave me. I'll come and look for you if you leave me," he added after a while, his voice more solemn, a need to convince her not to leave him behind, because deep inside he was afraid that one day she really would. Because he was afraid that one day their love would not be enough.

"I'll hide. You won't find me," she whispered.

Fiyero smiled in the moonlight as he took her hand and placed it on his right thigh. "Compass in the leg, remember?"

She laughed softly, sadly but prettily in his opinion.

"I love you," he kissed her shoulder.

"Show me."

"I thought I just did," he said as he slipped the shirt off her shoulders and brushed his lips against her neck.

"Show me again."

* * *

They had a visitor the next day.

Fiyero was tending the fields. His hair was longer and he was not wearing his shirt. The sweat on his body glistered, and it looked as if the diamonds shone with their own light. He straightened up when he saw her, and pushed the hair out of his face before he ran his fingers through his hair, trying to create some semblance of tidiness. He looked every inch the savage that some people imagined an Arjiki to be.

"Now who do we have here?" she said, a twinkling in her eyes as she eyed the half-naked Arjiki brazenly, although it was obvious from her body language that she knew it.

"Tigress," Fiyero greeted her.

"Captain," she nodded her head in return.

"No more a Captain," he corrected her. "Just a man living in the middle of the forest. A farmer, in fact." He gestured to the crops around them, the greenery peeking out from the soil. "You don't seem surprised to see me here."

"Oh well, words go around," the Tigress played coy. "The Captain of the Guards is missing and the Witch is glowing. You don't need to be a genius to figure out what happened."

Elphaba emerged from the house then and greeted her old friend.

"What brings you here?"

"Seeing old friends perhaps?" the Animal said. "Is someone going to offer me a drink? I've been travelling for days. I wish I have a broom like yours, Fae."

"We don't have any alcohol," Fiyero told her.

Tigress smiled as she took out a vintage bottle from her messenger bag. "A place to rest my feet then. I will offer you a drink in return."

"I'm going to Vinkus," she announced her intention after the first round.

"You are going in the wrong direction," Fiyero told her.

"Yackle thinks that it would be good if we could set up something there. It's long overdue. She wants me to talk to the Scrows."

"Why not talk to the Arjikis?" Fiyero suggested.

"They kill anything that is on four legs, or anything that has four legs." Fiyero raised his eyebrows. "Oz, you are acting more and more like her. I'm just joking. I understand from Yackle that the Scrows are more sympathetic to the Animals' plight."

"You will need to talk to the Arjikis too. They are the strongest tribe in Vinkus."

Tigress smiled, showing her sharp teeth. "That's why I need two-legged company."

Elphaba stood up. "So when do we leave?"

Fiyero reached for her hands which were still in bandages.

"You're not going anywhere."

"I'm not a child, Fiyero. I'm going, and you can't stop me."

"No," he admonished her. To Tigress, "she has just returned from a rescue mission. She needs her rest."

Tigress looked at the two of them with amusement. "Couples, couples," she tsk. "Now who says that I'm asking her along?"

* * *

"You don't have to go," she whispered, a hand on his chest. Before she left for her trips, she would usually stay away from him and kept their contact to the minimum. It was her way of mentally preparing her body for the days where she would be away from him, where she would not be able to touch him. She always did that before she went for her trips, but now she was doing exactly the reverse, touching his face, fingering the cuffs of his sleeves, smoothing his shirt, looking at him with the unspoken longing in her eyes, wanting to collect enough memories of him to last the duration when he was away. It made Fiyero happy that she needed him so much. It made him reluctant to leave.

He kissed her gently on her lips and pulled her into his arms. She wound her arms around his neck and let out a deep sigh. They were alone in the house; Tigress was outside with Chistery and Acorn, giving the couple the privacy that they desperately needed before he went on his journey. The clothes (just one set) had been packed, and Elphaba had put some food and medical supplies into the bag.

"You know that I have to. Having me along will help with the negotiations. And I know all the Vinkun dialects. Tigress will be captured and grilled the first night she stepped into Vinkus if she goes without me."

She chuckled softly and he smiled. With Glinda, Fiyero was always serious, but with Elphaba, he wanted to tease her even when she was in a serious mood. He liked to see the way her face lit up, that smile that could still take his breath away. He wanted to hear her laughter. He wanted to see her happy. He had no explanation for this except that it was part and parcel of that thing called love.

"I promise to come back as soon as possible. Remember to have regular meals. Have enough rest. Change the dressing every day and don't let it get infected. Stay indoors when it is going to rain. If anything breaks, just wait for me to come back and fix it. Don't be a hero. Try not to get into trouble when I am not around."

"I'm not a little girl. I can take care of myself."

"Really? Are you a big girl then?" He moved his hands until he was brushing the underside of her breasts and looked at her from top to bottom. "I don't see anything _big_ about you," he teased her mercilessly. Elphaba blushed.

* * *

It was a long journey. Both Animal and man were fit and strong, but even the fittest were unable to cover a large distance every day without the aid of some animals (or a broom), but they were unable to find any animal that did not bolt at the sight of the Tigress. The two travelled by day and took turns to sleep at night, even though Fiyero did not foresee any danger.

They were first approached by the Yunamatas during sundown, who were surprised when they saw the Arjiki prince in the company of an Animal. They were brought to meet the chieftain, and Fiyero informed them of Yackle's suggestion. Fiyero did not expect any objection, and he got none. The travelers moved on the next morning. One month had gone, and they still had to find the Scrows and the Arjikis, and to seek their approvals for the plan.

"Why did you end up in the club?" he asked Tigress one day when they were taking a break under a tree.

The Animal gave him a look. "Why not?"

"It's … a complicated place… and dangerous. It's in the Emerald City."

"The most dangerous place is usually the safest place, oh Mighty Stalker of the Thousand Year Grasslands," she looked at him from the corner of her eye, mocking him with the title that the Yunamata had used to greet him, his father being the Mightiest Stalker. "It's a place where all the rules can be broken. You'll be surprised by how many of the Wizard's men have seen me there and chose to close both eyes. And you will be surprised how many men stop thinking with their brains once they drop their pants."

Tigress and Fiyero found the tents of the Scrows two weeks after they had left the Yunamata. Fiyero moved ahead of Tigress as they made their way towards the circles of tents, letting himself be seen. Some of the scrows recognized the symbolism of the tattoos on Fiyero's face and they were immediately brought to Nastoya's tent. The princess was as big as Fiyero remembered. She told her people to leave the tent and, with Fiyero as a translator, asked Tigress for the reason for her visit.

Nastoya listened carefully to Tigress as she explained with a map of Vinkus crudely drawn on the sand, and Fiyero was surprised at how well thought-out was Yackle's plan – she had marked suitable slots where secret stations could be created. These stations would be filled with basic necessities. The Scrows did not have to do much, they only had to provide medical attention for those in urgent need, and to keep an eye on these stations; Yackle's men would bring the refugees across the vast land. In return, her men would supply the Scrows with food and other stuff. Nastoya made an offer – she would welcome any survivors into her midst if they decided that they did not want trek through the harsh terrain. Tigress nodded solemnly and promised to bring this back to Yackle, but Fiyero knew that it was a deal that the old woman would not reject.

* * *

Elphaba collapsed onto her bed. The hut was full, filled with travelers. Two of them were sick when they first arrived, and Elphaba had tended to them. They were on their way to recovery, and would leave the next morning when an accomplice of hers arrived to lead them on the next leg of their journey. Elphaba looked forward to a good rest when they were gone. She touched her forehead with her arm; her skin was cool to the touch, but she suspected that she had caught the virus from them; her limbs felt like lead, and she could not keep her food down. She wished that Fiyero was here to help instead of miles away.

A cough alerted her that someone was near. She struggled to sit up. One of the travelers was at the foot of her bed, her hands cupped. She was the wife of one of the men who was sick, but had kept to herself throughout their stay.

"Pardon me for being presumptuous, but I brought these for you." She pushed her hands toward Elphaba, showing the small dark red fruits in her hands. Elphaba had seen them before. They grew in bunches, hanging low in the branches, their brightness attracting unsuspecting travelers who had run out of food to eat.

She looked at the woman, bewildered.

"It's… it's for your problem." She bowed as she spoke, as if she was apologizing for Elphaba's problem, whatever it was.

"What problem?"

"You're not … well."

"It's just a touch of flu," Elphaba tried to explain, but the woman shook her head. She held one of Elphaba's hands and poured the fruits into her palm.

"These fruits are poisonous," Elphaba told the woman.

The woman shook her head slightly. "Not too much. This is just enough… just enough."

"Enough for what?"

The woman paused for a moment as she looked around to make sure that no one was looking at them. She moved her hands to her front, and then smoothed the belly of her dress with slow deliberateness. Her eyes looked at Elphaba, willing the witch to understand.

Elphaba's hand nearly went to her belly, mimicking the woman as she finally realised what the woman had meant, but she let it dropped at the last moment. Her mind raced. When was the last time she had bled? When was the last time she and Fiyero had been intimate? She had been so busy since he was gone, overwhelmed by everything when he was not around.

The old woman spoke again.

"Not virus. I used to work for a midwife, I know. I won't tell. Unfortunate things can happen when a girl is on her own with no man to protect her. This," she gestured to the fruits in the green girl's hand, "is enough to get rid of your problem. Not more. More will kill you."

The woman backed off, a sign of respect or fear, Elphaba did not know.

She touched her belly gently with her other hand.

Her problem.

She did not need a problem.

* * *

The Thousand Year Grasslands, Fiyero suspected, would never change, not even in a million years. He stood among the tall blades, the hot dry wind whipping at his skin. The Arjikis moved inland, their backs to him, their prince forgotten. His parents were not around; they were somewhere in Gillikin, and Fiyero and Tigress had passed the message to the elders instead. They would ensure that his parents would get the message when they came back, but Fiyero did not expect any objection. The Arjikis had bidden farewell to their prince, and Fiyero's job was done. It was a pity that he did not get to meet his parents and update them about his life.

"This has gone well." Fiyero heard Tigress' voice behind him.

"Yes," he agreed. "A new milestone." In a way, he was glad. More routes meant that less people would go through Munchkinland, which meant that Elphaba would be less stretched. He smiled at his own selfish thoughts.

"I guess this is it." He turned to the Animal and held out a hand. Tigress smiled and took it.

"I'm going back to Emerald City," she told him. "You?"

"Back to Elphaba, of course."

Tigress scanned their surroundings, at the unbreaking, monotonous scene before them. "You won't get lost without me, will you? Fae will skin me alive if you lose your way."

He chuckled. "Try not to get lost on your way back to the Emerald City," he said as farewell.

* * *

Fiyero pushed himself to cover as much ground as possible every day for his return trip, and was positively exhausted by the time he stepped into the familiar forest. He had not slept in the last two days, and looked forward to a nice sleep with Elphaba in his arms.

Home.

He smiled a little when he thought of that word. It was strange, how the Arjiki prince who had lived in luxury all his life now considered a small cabin the middle of the forest as home. He supposed that it was true when people said that home is where the heart is. And his heart was with her. His heart beat for her. She ruled his heart.

The daylight was fading, but everything looked the same, just like how it looked when he left a few months ago. He was little disappointed actually. He thought that perhaps the house would be a little bit more run-down without his care, the porch might looked a bit dusty and in need of some cleaning, or someone would burst out of the door and ran straight into his arms. But everything looked the same. He could hear Chistery and Acorn talking inside the house. He walked past the house to the little garden behind.

And there she was, bent in between two rows of vegetables, her green fingers checking the leaves for decay.

"Hey," he said. She looked up, an uncertain smile flashed across her face, and that was it.

He wanted to hold her and kiss her but she pushed him away, asking him to clean up. Dinner was ready by the time he had cleaned up and put his things away. He wanted her to sit next to him, but she stayed away, saying that she was not hungry and went about the house, doing her chores, lingering at the countertop.

He wanted to wait up for her, but he was so tired he fell asleep the moment his head hit the bed. He did not even realise it when she crept onto the bed in the middle of the night and slept with her back to him. He turned in his sleep and snuggled close to her as he continued to sleep. It took her a while longer before sleep overtook her.

Fiyero woke up at dawn to the calling of the birds. Elphaba was sleeping, her back to him, his hand resting on her hip. Fiyero smiled and tightened his embrace, his fingers caressing her skin, rousing her awake. He knew the exact moment she was fully conscious, because it was the exact moment when he felt it, the exact moment when she pushed his hand away and bolted out of the bed.

"Elphaba!" he gasped.

She did not even look back at him, but instead stomped out of the house and slammed the door, waking up both Acorn and Chistery.

Fiyero ignored the two Animals as they rubbed their bleary eyes, and followed Elphaba. He exited the house just in time to see her disappearing into the forest.

"Elphaba. Elphaba, please," he pleaded.

He found her soon enough, facing a tree. She had wrapped her arms around herself, her head down, and he could not see her face.

"Hey," he said gently as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders for a while before a hand move down, confirming what he had felt earlier on. It was just a slight difference, still in the early stages, but he knew her body like the back of his hand.

"It's good news, isn't it?" he asked.

She tore herself away from him, her back still to him.

"I hate you."

"What?" he was unable to conceal the surprise in his voice. He touched her shoulder gently, but she twisted herself away from him.

"I hate you, Fiyero Tiggular." She glared at him this time. "This is all your fault."

Fiyero nearly laughed. She did behave like a child sometimes.

"My fault?"

She glared at him again.

He raised his hands in the air. "Alright, this is my fault. Absolutely my fault." And then he remembered what happened the night before Tigress turned up. "But, it takes two to … you know… I didn't force myself on you…" he finished lamely.

If looks could kill, he would be dead three times over in that short conversation.

"But you could have stopped!" She raised her voice unknowingly. "You could have stopped me!"

Now he was flabbergasted.

"Elphaba. What did you expect me to do? The woman whom I was crazy about suddenly started kissing and touching me in the middle of the night and I was supposed to stop myself and stop her? I have needs too!"

"Everything will be alright," he said as he reached for her again.

She turned away from him and shut her eyes.

He pulled her to him, but it seemed that she was not there, even though she was physically in his arms.

"It won't be alright…" she whimpered as she wrapped her arms around herself tightly, stepping away from his touch. He reached for her for a third time; the way she kept walking away was killing him. He hugged her from behind but waited for her to speak.

"I wanted to kill it, Fiyero," she spoke in a low voice after a while. "I wanted to kill the baby."

"What?" He felt his blood ran cold. His hand moved on its own accord, to her stomach, seeking assurance from the gentle swell of her stomach. He shut his eyes and imagined the baby inside, safe and sound. His baby.

"You didn't," he whispered fiercely, his fingers splayed, as if he could protect the baby inside with the gesture. He turned her around and cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. "You didn't," he repeated again.

"I was so scared, Fiyero. I didn't know what to do," she flailed her arms around. "I didn't know when you will come back. There was no one that I could talk to. Do you know how scared I was?" And how much she despised herself for being so reliant on him in such a short period. Yackle was right. She should not let emotions ruled her decisions. "I don't know if you would come back. I don't know if…what if…" she brought a hand to her lips, the fluttering of her fingers reminding Fiyero of the beating wings of a butterfly, and looked away. "What if you don't want me anymore?"

Fiyero allowed himself a little smile as he took her hand and kissed the butterfly fingers.

"What makes you think that I don't want you anymore? You're my queen, Elphaba."

"I can't do anything anymore. I'm as good as useless. I'll be a burden…." Her thoughts went back to so many years ago, memories of her mother as she dragged her tired body from one couch to another, a hand behind her aching back, her stomach monstrously huge. How her beautiful mother always looked pale and grey on those days. The way she drew in her breath as if it was going to be her last. "Soon, Fabala," Melena had told her eldest born. "It will be over soon." Melena Thropp had no idea how true were her words.

Fiyero kissed her fingers again.

"You won't be a burden. I bet that you will continue to lord over me even when you are on the bed giving birth." He risked a chuckle. "And I'll be there, holding your hands."

Fiyero watched her as the words sank in. The subtle change in her features when she realised that he would not be leaving. The tension that slowly left her body. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to him before he kissed her forehead.

"Now, what would my queen like to have for breakfast?" he asked.

* * *

"So why can't I go with you?" he asked, holding her broom hostage in his hand.

Elphaba adjusted her messenger bag across her bag.

"He has not met you before."

"There's always a first time," Fiyero countered.

"He may recognise you as the Captain of the Guards. I don't want to scare him away."

"But you'll let him know that I'll be taking over right?"

She nodded as she reached out for her broom. Fiyero handed over the flying contraption reluctantly.

"And talk to her," the prince gestured to the wooden stick. "I can't help if she refuse to cooperate. She's just as stubborn as you. No, she's worse." Fiyero had been trying to fly the broom for the last three days without success, not even when he threatened to use her as fuel.

Elphaba laughed softly as she turned to the door. He stopped her with a tap on her wrist.

"Wait." She turned around, puzzled. Fiyero cupped her chin, and leaned in for a kiss. His lips lingered on hers, unwilling to let go.

"I love you," he told her for the hundredth time since he came back.

She left with a blush on her face.

She reached her destination early, and landed softly with Chistery by her side.

As she waited, she thought of how she would broach the subject. How she would tell the man whom she had been working with for years that Fiyero would be taking over the distribution of the herbs and medicine. _If_ he managed to coax the broom to fly with him. She looked at the stick in her hand.

"He's not that bad, you know," she said, and then laughed, feeling slightly foolish for talking to a broomstick.

Chistery beat his wings, bored.

"He should be here soon." She tried to appease the impatient Animal. The Monkey made a sound as he flapped his wings, going higher, and then suddenly something dark flashed across the air and Chistery shot backwards and hit a tree, tumbling to the ground.

"Chis!" Elphaba called his name as she rushed forward, dropping her broom. The Monkey looked back at her, his eyes dazed. One of his wings flapped weakly, while the other remained limp on the forest ground. There was a wide rip on that wing, as if a blade had slashed through the thin membrane, the blood oozing.

"Oz," she swore. Chistery whimpered in pain as she tried to pull him into her arms. She got to bring him back to safety and saved his wings before it was too late.

She struggled with him. "Help me, Chis. Put your arms around me..." Elphaba tried to pull one of his arms over her shoulders but it slid off weakly.

"Chis, help me, please," the green girl pleaded as she tried to keep Chistery's eyes opened. She tried again, and finally managed to get his fingers to lock behind her neck. Her heart hammered, wondering if he was going into shock as his eyes fluttered close. "You'll be alright," she tried to reassure the Animal, trying to convince herself.

She did not realise that someone was behind her until the tranquiliser buried itself into her leg.

**AN It's exam time! So the next chapter will be up only in November.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

**AN : **

**I'm back! :D **

**Some self promotion here. I have posted a lighthearted fiyeraba one-shot titled "The Princess Project" last week****. Do check it out via my profile! :) For those who prefer something angsty, you have "Brave", which was posted more than a month ago.**

Elphaba opened her eyes. From sleep or from unconsciousness, she could not tell. She was surrounded by darkness, the air thick and stifling. She wiggled her limbs, and was not surprised that her movements were still restrained, but the silence around her told her that she was no longer on the move. Her wrists and ankles were still shackled by the cuffs which were too small for her, rubbing her skin raw whenever she struggled.

She had turned around the moment the tranquiliser hit her. At first, she could not see anybody. And then three men had emerged from behind the trees, none in uniform, one with a dart gun and two with rifles, aiming at her.

She had pulled out the first dart, and the man with the dart gun shot at her in succession, sending two more darts into her back, between her shoulder blades, just beyond her reach. She snarled at them, narrowing her eyes and shaping her fingers into claws. The men had hesitated, the fear apparent in their eyes, and they took a step back, ready to bolt if she was to take even a single step forward. Suddenly her legs turned into jelly and she collapsed, and they swarmed upon her like vultures on a dying animal. They twisted her limbs behind her, ignoring her feeble struggles, and she felt the snap of the cuffs on her wrists before darkness overtook her.

They had put her in a big leather bag which smelled like a mixture of rotten vegetables and dead animals and had handled her like a sack of grains. They tranquilised her time and again, grabbing her leg firmly through the bag before injecting the chemicals into her veins, and only opened the bag when they needed to give her water and a bit of food. It was not enough, and sometimes she had no idea if she had fainted from hunger or if it was due to the anesthesia. One of the men untied the bag once on his own, his groping hands betraying his dishonorable intentions. She screamed for the first time in her life. Thankfully his companions came into the room in time and put a stop to it. They gagged her to stop her from screaming again. The man went away with a dislocated jaw.

Elphaba struggled with the chains, hoping that they would miraculously break on their own this time round. They did not, but the change in the air and the influx of dim light told her that there was an opening somewhere. She struggled harder, her bounded legs kicking against the leather and the suddenly there was a tiny hole opened above her head. She struggled further, and the opening widened, and half of her head came out of the bag. She looked at her surroundings. She was in a large rusty cage, the top of the enclosure reaching high in a room with an even higher ceiling. There was no window to be seen, but on one side of the wall, a narrow vertical gap let in a sliver of sunlight that told her it was daytime. The wall against the sunlight was not solid, and there was something familiar about its wavering form and blood red silhouette, but she could not recall where she had seen it before.

It was only when the 'wall' moved and a woman came in that she finally knew where she was.

She was at the back of the Throne Room.

She was back in the Emerald City.

"Well, hello dear," Madame Morrible said with a sneer.

* * *

Fiyero marched towards the Wizard's Palace, the broom in his hand. The broom had played dead throughout the journey, and he had to restrain himself from snapping her into two on several occasions. How could she refuse to help when Elphaba was clearly in danger?

Despite that, the Arjiki had managed to reach the Emerald City in record breaking time, thanks to a hidden stash of money he had with him which allowed him to change to a new horse at every stop once he had reached the Munchkin town a short distance outside the forest. He had cut his long hair short and changed into his captain uniform once he had reached the Emerald City, knowing how his uniform would open doors. But he had not slept. Every time he closed his eyes he would see Elphaba being tortured by the Gale Force in a hundred different ways, on the blink of death yet brought back to the life time and again for their sadistic entertainment. He blamed himself, regretted that he had not insisted on going with her to meet her liaison. This would not have happened if he had been with her. She was his responsibility, for Oz's sake, and no matter how independent she was, she was still ... he swore under his breath at the way things had turned out. He blinked his eyes and shook his head, trying push his fatigue away, the lack of sleep that had accumulated since Chistery flew back to the house with one torn wing. The Monkey was in too much pain to communicate coherently, but it did not take much for him to know that Elphaba was in danger, though it had taken them much longer to reach the spot where she was captured, guided by the injured Monkey. Fiyero had found the darts that her captors had not bothered to pick up before they left. They were similar to the ones used by the Gale Force, but without the serialisation marked on all the weapons and ammunition that were issued to the emerald-clad army. Madame Morrible was in charge of the army supplies (and almost everything else in the Emerald City) and he had no doubt she was the mastermind behind this.

One of the guards at the gates of the Wizard's Palace recognised him.

"Captain!" he called out in a friendly greeting, but Fiyero ignored him. There must be murder in his eyes, for the guards at the gates did not stop him, and a couple of servants who saw him steered clear of his path and backed themselves against the wall.

The palace had undergone some changes since he was last here. Some of the areas had been repainted recently, the chemical smell still lingering along the corridors. The carpet had been replaced, the threadbare faded green flooring replaced with an overly bright green carpet with golden swirls and brown borders. But Fiyero did not notice these things. He stalked the long corridors without stopping, hoping that he would suddenly see a weary green girl leaning against the wall the next time he turned a corner, her face dirty, perhaps a hand cradling a broken arm but otherwise unhurt, waiting for him to grab her to safety.

Fiyero took two steps at a time for the last flight of stairs and burst into Madame Morrible's room, wrenching the door open so hard that it crashed against the wall and shook the walls.

"Where is she?" he roared, startling her group of cronies who were crowding around her. One of them dropped the papers he had in his hands. They looked at him fearfully and then at Madame Morrible.

The old woman waved her fingers dismissively, and the group streamed out of the room, avoiding the Captain who was standing in the middle of the room.

"Well, Captain," Madame Morrible got out of her seat, the elaborately carved Quoxwood seat with a high red cushioned back that looked almost like a throne. "Welcome back," she said as she took her time to pour a glass of cold water from a crystal decanter on the table.

"Where is she?" he asked again, clenching his teeth. His hand moved to the gun he had on his hip.

The Wizard's press secretary noticed his action and smiled at him indulgently, as if he was a child who had just made an unreasonable demand.

"Where is who, Captain? You've been gone for almost a year, and we have been so kind as to apply for a leave of absence on your behalf, leaving your position open for you, and yet, not a word of thanks from you? What happened to the well-mannered Captain that I have known before?" she tsk-tsked.

"Where's Elphaba?" he growled menacingly.

"The Wicked Witch of the West, you mean. I might just tell you if you ask nicely." She glanced at his hand which was still on his gun. Fiyero released his grip on the weapon, and when Madame Morrible raised her eyebrows, he took out his gun and threw it on the ground, the dark metal spinning to a stop at her foot.

"That's better," she said, and clapped her hands twice. "Guards!"

Two guards came in.

"Cuff him," she said. One of them stepped forward without hesitation and wrestled the broom from him. The other man pulled his arms behind him and slapped the handcuffs on his wrist.

"Where's Glinda the Good?" she asked the guards.

"She's outside the Throne Room with one of the contractors, Madame." One of the men replied immediately, the whereabouts of the blonde at his fingertips.

"Excellent." Madame Morrible replied as she gripped Fiyero's chin, smiling at the defiant look that he gave her. "The Captain and I are going for a reunion party."

* * *

Glinda was outside the Throne Room with a contractor and his men. She had been supervising the renovation of the palace on top of her regular work for the past few months, and she was glad that it was almost done. A group of Gillikinese businessmen and delegates were coming next month, and she had every intention to impress them. Everything must be ready and perfect in time for their visit. Her eyes widened when she saw Fiyero with Madame Morrible and the two guards. She hesitated for a moment, and then rushed up and hugged him.

"Fiyero," she muttered his name, fearing the worst.

"Glinda," he leaned towards her, wanting to tell her that Morrible had Elphaba, but one of the guards jerked on the cuff, and he stumbled and fell to the ground.

Glinda gasped, and then composed her features as she turned to the older woman.

"Madame, I'm sure there has been a misunderstanding. This is Fiyero. Why is he being handcuffed?" she asked, trying very hard not to let the tremble in her voice showed.

Madame Morrible shook her head dramatically as she opened the door to the Throne Room, leading the girl inside with a firm grip under her elbow.

"Glinda dear, I'm afraid that I had been hiding something from you. I know that you have been such a brave girl, but I can see that you have been distraught since your beloved fiancé disappeared, and so I have asked my men to be on the lookout for you. I've found him, as you can see. But I'm afraid I have some bad news." She led her across the wide hall of the Throne Room, her men dragging Fiyero behind.

She stopped in front of the red curtain behind the bronze head.

"You see. The Captain left, because he had been bewitched. By whom, you might ask." She reached for the lever and pulled it. The curtain parted with a whoosh, and this time Glinda's gasp was louder.

There was a figure on the floor, lying on her side, crumpled and limp like a rag that had been discarded after use. Her limbs were pulled behind her, bounded, with a huge leather bag by her feet. Her hair fanned out on the floor and fell across her face, partially hiding her ash green features. She was gagged, a dirty cloth pulled tightly across her mouth and secured behind her head. Her eyes were closed and she was not moving.

"Elphaba!" Fiyero shouted her name. The guards tried to restrain him, but he twisted himself out of their grasps and ran towards the cage, slamming his shoulder against the cage.

"Elphaba, open your eyes, please," he pleaded.

He waited for a response from her, any response, but there was none. She looked small, smaller than he had ever seen her and her limbs looked like dry twigs. A fluttering of her eyes, and then nothing.

"Elphaba, please. It's me. It's Fiyero."

Elphaba's eyes fluttered open this time round, her vision unfocused. It took a while, and a look of dismay flooded her face when she realised who was kneeling before her. She wanted to say something, but the gag muffled her voice. She shook her head weakly.

_No. _

Fiyero crouched closer to the cage.

"It's alright. Everything will be fine."

_No. _

"Such devotion," Madame Morrible sighed dramatically.

Fiyero turned at her voice.

"Let her go!" he commanded, and Madame Morrible laughed.

"Let her go? What do I get in return?" she asked.

The Arjiki's eyes narrowed. "What do you want? You have power, and untold riches. What else do you want?"

Madame Morrible threw back her head and cackled.

"Why, Captain. You made me sound like a villain. I'm just a loyal subject of the Wizard. There's nothing I want more than peace in Oz. And to do so, I need your help, Captain."

"Me?"

"I'm not going to beat around the bush, Captain. I want you to take over your father and swear fealty to the Wizard."

"Why? My father didn't go against the Wizard," Fiyero said.

"Perhaps he didn't. But he did not pledge his allegiance to the Wizard either. We just can't have the Vinkuns run around like wild animals. The Arjikis is the strongest tribe in the Vinkus, and I expect the rest of the tribes to follow thereafter. A lot can be accomplished if the Chieftain would take instructions from the Emerald City."

Behind him, Elphaba made muffled noises, shaking her head. He knew what it meant. The whole of Vinkus would belong to the Wizard or, more accurately, to Madame Morrible. The newly carved route for the Animals to leave of Oz would be no more. The Arjikis, the Scrows, the Yunamatas, and all the smaller tribes would no longer have autonomy. The Wizard would not need any reason to send the Gale Force into the vast lands and wrestle control of the region. It was as good as delivering Vinkus to Morrible's hands.

"You can't force us to do that," he told her.

Madame Morrible gave another laugh.

"I'm not forcing you, young prince of the Arjikis. I'm telling _you_. Gain the throne, and pledge your loyalty to the Wizard. I'm not going to waste my time talking to your cumbersome old man. You do want me to release your precious little girlfriend, don't you?"

Fiyero cast a quick glance behind him at Elphaba. He could almost hear her voice in his head, passionate and rational. _Run. Don't bother about me. Go away while you can. You got to keep the Vinkus out of her hands._

"You can't make me do it," Fiyero stood up, his chin lifted.

Madame Morrible chuckled again.

"Really?" she gave him a dismissive wave. "Do you remember the rumours, Captain? That water will melt her?" She raised her glass as if to give him a toast.

"No!" Fiyero ran towards Madame Morrible, trying to stop her, but she simply tossed the glass towards the cage. Elphaba closed her eyes when the glass hit the metal cage, and her body jerked instinctively when she felt the cold water slashed all over her face. Fiyero rushed over, his heart pounding hard, expecting to hear her screams pierced the air, expecting ugly red blisters to appear on her skin, but there was nothing. The green girl opened her eyes, a look of confusion on her face when she realised that her skin was wet, but not burnt. Her eyes went to him, uncomprehending, and all Fiyero could see was fear in her wide eyes, the way her body shook and her mouth straining against the gag as she gasped for air.

"It's just wine this time, my dear," the older woman sniggered. "But you won't be so lucky next time."

Fiyero stood up, his hands clenched into fists behind his back.

The two guards approached the cage, their guns raised. One of them pointed the gun at him while the other aimed his gun at Elphaba.

"There is always more than one way to kill a witch, Captain," Madame Morrible gave him a sideway glance. Fiyero's fists tightened. She planned this. She planned all of this.

"Madame…" Glinda stepped into Morrible's view. "We can't execute someone simply like this. There has to be a trial, to show the fairness of the judicial system. It's what the Wizard is known for. What will the people think when they found out that she was executed without a trial?"

"The people will understand, Glinda dear," Madame Morrible replied with mock sincerity as she patted Glinda gently on her arm. "She is too dangerous to go on trial publicly. What if she hurts the people?"

"I'll do it," Fiyero interrupted.

"What?" It was her turn to narrow her eyes.

"I'll take over the tribe. Just let Elphaba go."

Madame Morrible chuckled, her shoulders shaking with mirth.

"I always know that you're a clever man." She sauntered over to the prince. "I'll let her go, on one condition. You have to marry Glinda."

"What?" He was not expecting this.

Glinda rushed up to Madame Morrible, a hand on the older woman. "But Madame, this is my marriage you are talking about! You can't force someone to marry me if he does not want to," she tried to reason with her.

"But you love him, don't you?" Madame Morrible asked the blonde. "I've seen the way you fell hopelessly in love with him when you were in Shiz. Unless you are worried for the witch?"

Glinda shook her head violently and tried to smile. "Of course not. But he doesn't love me. I'm can't marry a man if he does not love me."

"That can be easily remedied, my dear. I happen to know …" she turned her fingers in the air suggestively.

"But that's not true love. I want to marry someone who really, really loves me without condition. That's what every girl wants, Madame."

"Oh well," the ex-head mistress let out an exaggerated sigh. "Can't say I didn't try." She turned to her man and gestured to Elphaba. "Shoot her."

"No!" two person chorused at the same time, and Fiyero moved instinctively so that he blocked the path to Elphaba.

Madame Morrible looked at the two of them with barely concealed contempt. "Make up your mind. I don't have all day." She tapped her toes impatiently.

Glinda looked at Fiyero apologetically, and got a nod in return.

Fiyero lowered his head, his shoulders slumped. "I don't know what are your real intentions, but we'll do it," he said.

Madame Morrible laughed and gestured again. The guard nearer to the cage opened the gate and pulled Elphaba out. Fiyero rushed forward, but the other guard was prepared and hit him with his gun. Fiyero stumbled from the impact, and the same guard kicked him at the back of his knee causing him to sprawl to the floor.

"Insolence!" Madame Morrible barked. "What kind of man are you to promise to marry a woman and then run to another immediately? It is best that you forget about the Witch." She tried to hold his head with her hands, but Fiyero struggled and spat at her. The guard behind him hit him at the back of his head with the butt of his gun, stunning him, and then jerked him up by the collar of his shirt.

"That's better," Madame Morrible commented as she placed her fingers on his temple. She turned and sneered at Elphaba.

"Say goodbye to your precious Winkie prince."

The ex-school head mistress' lips moved as she chanted the spell under her breath. It was a short, but effective one. When it was done, the guard released his hold on Fiyero's collar, dropping the unconscious man onto the floor before he walked over to Elphaba and joined his colleague.

"Take the Witch away," Madame Morrible commanded. Elphaba struggled weakly and the guard twisted her arm unnecessarily, laughing as he did so. They dragged her out of the room. She turned back, and the last sight she had of the room was Glinda kneeling down next to Fiyero and she placed his head on her lap.

Morrible laughed, triumphant, as the door closed behind her.

* * *

The two guards pulled her along an empty corridor. Elphaba's head dropped. She looked at the carpet, the green, gold and brown stitching turning into a blur. Fiyero was alive. He would be with Glinda, married to Glinda, but he would be alive. She looked down at her dress, at the baby bump that was not obvious underneath her loose dress. Their baby. Madame Morrible had said that she would be released, but the girl knew that the old woman's words could not be trusted. She wondered which would be crueler to the baby – dying in the womb of a dead woman, or to be born in a place like Southstairs. She wished that she could place her hand on her belly, to console the baby for one last time, but her hand was chained behind her.

Something twitched at the corner of her eye.

The broom.

Elphaba feigned unconsciousness, and her dead weight pulled at the guards. The two men cursed and jerked at her arms, but she stood up suddenly and pushed one of the guards with her shoulder with all the strength that she had before she head butted the other guard. She had the element of surprise, and both guards were caught off-guarded. The guard who was holding onto her broom fell and the broom rolled out of his hand. Elphaba grabbed the stick. She was not joking when she told Glinda the last time they met in the palace that she could fly the broom even if she had no legs. The green girl swung the broom between her legs and held on to the stick. Without prompting, the broom levitated, making a sharp turn once it went out of the window. The two guards aimed at the witch but their shots went wide.

The two men went back to Morrible's office, where she was waiting alone impatiently.

"She escaped, Madame, just as you have predicted," one of the guards said.

"Good job," Morrible replied with a cruel smile on her face.

"Madame. We still don't understand. Why do you want to keep the prince but let her escape?"

"That one is a stubborn girl. She'll never go into hiding. She's the perfect villain in the public's eyes, and I have to admit that I may never find another replacement as good as her. Let her live for a few more months."

"But she'll be back, won't she?"

"Of course. I know that girl. She'll come back during the wedding, if she has not died of a broken heart by then." Madame Morrible laughed at the absurdity. "And when that happens, we will let the Captain kill her. If his heart softens again, I guess one of you will have to do it. Everyone loves to see a show where the hero saves the day, and we will let them put on the best show that Oz has ever seen."

"And the Captain?"

"There's something about him that makes him immune to my spell in the long run. He's been an eye sore since the day he went to Shiz. 'Dancing through life'. What idiocy! When he finally remembers the Witch, he will be married to the ditzy blonde and maybe a father. The responsibility of being husband and father will keep him in check. But the guilt will eat him alive." She laughed, delighted by her own ingenuity. "And if he doesn't, we can always go the good old fashion way - unfortunate accidents can always happen."

The press secretary's evil cackle was joined by two others.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

***wave* to the guests. Thank you for your reviews! :D**

Glinda rested her cheek on a hand, too tired to even let out a sigh. Her dinner had been delivered to her room, but she had simply pushed the food around the plate with her fork before pushing it away. She had not eaten anything since breakfast, yet the sight of her favourite dishes did not whet her appetite. Today was supposed to be a boring, monotonous day, a day filled with meetings with contractors and colleagues interspersed with tons of paperwork, just like yesterday and the day before. But what she had was… a disaster, a calamity, a tornado ripping though the narrow corridors of the palace, her worst nightmare came true.

Fiyero was back. Elphaba was back. The former by choice and the latter by force. She looked at the boy sleeping on her bed, brought back to her room with the assistance of two servants after she had pleaded at length to Madame Morrible. She had dismissed the servants after that, not wanting anyone in her sanctuary. She tended to him personally, wipping away the grime and dust from his face and unbuttoning the stiff collar of his uniform, hoping that it would help him breathe better. And then she simply waited. There was nothing else she could do.

Madame Morrible had come to her room soon after. She did not sit on the seat, which was offered by Glinda out of habit more than anything else, but stood instead, arms akimbo as she instructed the petite blonde on what to say when Fiyero woke up. She did not even glance at the unconscious man on her bed.

"I'm sure you do not want to alarm him by saying the wrong thing," she had said, as if the wellbeing of the prince was utmost in her mind.

Glinda had nodded of course.

Glinda brushed her fingers against his cheek. It had been so long since she had last seen him. He had lost some weight, but he still looked healthy overall. His eyes were closed, as if he was sound asleep, oblivious to the turmoil churning in her head, the wild pounding of her heart that felt like the onset of a heart attack. Glinda gave a bitter laugh. What irony it would be if she died of a heart attack just before he woke up.

Fiyero stirred, a soft groan escaping from his lips.

"Fiyero?" He seemed to hear her, and his eyes slowly opened. A louder groan this time as he shaded his eyes from the light. He tried to push himself up, and Glinda went to his side, fluffing a pillow before she placed it behind his back.

He turned to her, and Glinda could hear the surprise in his voice when he spoke. "Glinda?"

She tried to give him a brave smile.

"You're awake," she said as she placed a small hand gentle on his forehead. "How do you feel?" He placed a hand on his head and swore at the pain that he felt.

"Like an elephant had sat on my head." He looked at his surroundings, the girlish decorations and his eyes widened when they landed on the pink bedsheets. "Why am I here?" he asked, confused, his fingers clutching at the quilt covering him.

Glinda gulped. She knew what would happen, but perhaps a naïve part of her still hoped that she would be proven wrong. She reached for his hand, his fingers that felt so cold and alien. "Don't you remember?" She probed cautiously.

He tried to shake his head, and grunted at the pounding that intensified in his head.

"You…" she hesitated, remembering Madame Morrible's instructions, the veiled threat underneath. "You've been sick. You've been very sick."

Fiyero frowned.

"Was I?"

Glinda pursed her lips and nodded her head. "But you're fine now. We had the best doctors attending to you and you're fine now."

"That's great," he said. The frown lessened, but never left his face completely. "Why do you look so worried, Glinda?"

She straightened, a hand on her heart. "Me? I'm always worried about you, Fiyero." She gave a nervous laugh.

Just then, the door opened, and Madame Morrible came in for the second time that day. The lights seemed to dim in her presence.

"Captain! I'm glad to see that you are up. You gave us a fright."

Fiyero looked at Wizard's press secretary.

"I'm sorry for the scare, Madame. But I am fine now. Just a slight headache that I'm sure will be gone soon."

Madame Morrible smiled, an eerie smile in Glinda's opinion.

"Well, maybe I should rephrase my sentence. You gave Glinda a fright. She worries about you so much. In fact, I have never seen a woman so devoted to a man. You know, come and think of it, the two of you have been engaged for so long. Maybe it's time you get married."

"Madame!" Glinda gasped, and cowed visibly when Madame Morrible gave her a look.

"Yes, Glinda Dear?" her voice was cold. "Do you have any objection?"

"No," Glinda shook her head. Her fingers went to her lips, picking at the skin. "Nothing, Madame."

"What do you think, Captain?" She asked the Arjiki instead.

Fiyero thought for a while. "Madame, I really appreciate your concern, but Glinda's parents... well, I did not really give them a good impression the last time we met. I want Glinda to be happy." He covered her hand with his. "But I don't think that she will be truly happy if we didn't get her parents' blessings."

Madame Morrible looked at the young man, her expression unreadable.

"Well, Captain, I'm sure you'll have no problem charming her parents. I expect to hear good news soon. Life has been so depressing lately, and the Ozians will definitely welcome the news on the wedding of the century. But, having said that, Captain, I do not expect you to neglect your duty. The hunt for the Wicked Witch of the West continues."

Fiyero did not even blink. "Of course, Madame. I will not fail the Wizard."

"Just the answer I expected," the older woman answered and she left the room without another word.

Glinda looked at the closed door, and suddenly it felt that the room became brighter.

"Glinda?" She turned to the prince on hearing her name. She remembered the last time when she saw him, when desperation was written all over his face, the helplessness that she could feel radiating from him when he tried to tell her that Elphaba had been captured. Before that, memory from almost a year ago, the anger and betrayal on his face when he found out that she had been keeping the truth from him for years. But there was no such emotions on his face now. Instead, there was this look of genuine concern in his eyes. He glided his thumb against her lower lip gently.

"You're bleeding," he said, and it was only then that she was aware of the sharp metallic taste in her mouth; she had picked and broken her skin without knowing. His hand moved to her cheek, cupping her face.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly. Glinda nodded, her golden curls shaking along with her, trying to stop the tears that were welling up in her eyes. A tear spilled down her cheek as she sniffed, and Fiyero brushed it away with his thumb before he pulled her into his arms. Glinda stayed there, her arms around his neck, sobbing uncontrollably as she let the tears fell and soaked his uniform. And no amount of persuasion from the prince would make her reveal the real reason behind her tears.

* * *

Glinda was at her desk, deep in thoughts, when a familiar voice broke into her thoughts.

She looked up and saw Fiyero at the door. He was dressed in his Gale Force uniform, and it was a while before she remembered that today was the first day he was back in office after his leave. After what Madame Morrible had done to him. Again.

She gave a well-practised smile.

"Yes Dearest?" she took a quick glance at her watch. They had planned to go out for dinner that evening, but she still had a few hours of work to do before she could leave her office. Being Glinda the Good was hard work.

He took a few steps into the room and ran his fingers through his short, dark hair.

"Nothing actually. Just that there's quite a lot of work to catch up, and I may knock off late today."

Glinda heaved a sigh of relief inwardly. "We can cancel dinner if you are busy," she suggested, hoping that he would agree. Chuffrey had arrived in town earlier that day, and she was sure that he would be free up his calendar for her if she wanted to. Fiyero had been very attentive since he came back, but on certain days, it felt like he was stifling her. She suspected that he was paying her so much attention because of Morrible's spell, because he felt that he had been neglecting her in the past year as he could not recall any moment that they had spent together. But the truth was that he did not neglect her. He was with Elphaba, her best friend and the woman he loved. There were so many times when she wanted to tell him the truth, to shake him and make him remember, but the concern in his eyes always stopped her. That, and that she had no idea who could be eavesdropping around the corner, who would report back to Madame Morrible. She had no idea who she could trust. She did not even know if she could trust him. The secret was like a tumor that was growing within her, threatening to burst any moment and spew poison all inside her body. It was like Shiz all over again.

"No," he shook his head. "I'll try to wrap up as soon as possible and pick you up. I got a surprise for you." A smile lit up his handsome face, and Glinda was reminded of why every girl in Shiz had fallen in love with him. There was no denying his charisma, even with that terribly short military haircut. She smiled back at him.

"You know what? Maybe I will get a manicure before dinner," she suggested.

"Sure," he commented wryly. And she pretended to be tickled by his response.

Dinner was at a newly-opened restaurant near to the Palace. The place was full by the time Fiyero and Glinda arrived, but Fiyero had made a reservation and they were led to their seats immediately.

Glinda scanned through the menu. There were different types of dishes, and she ordered grilled fish with chips, and a glass of the finest wine from Frottica. It took Fiyero a longer time to decide, and Glinda was surprised by his choice when he finally placed his order.

"We specialised in grilled meat, sir," the waiter hinted, his hand poised above his little note pad.

"I'm sure that your vegetarian salad is equally delicious," Fiyero said. "And I'll have the mushroom soup and a cup of coffee."

The waiter retreated, his face darker.

"Vegetarian? Are you feeling alright?"

He smiled at her.

"Of course, I'm fine. Never felt better. I just had a late lunch today," he explained.

Just then, a familiar voice boomed next to them and a hand clapped on his shoulder.

"Fancy seeing you here! I thought you have fallen off the face of Oz!"

The couple turned and saw the familiar face of Avaric.

Glinda put on her public smile and gave Avaric her hand to kiss. Fiyero shook his hand.

"It's good to see you, Avaric," he said, meaning it.

"Yes, it's good to see you too. I have not seen you for a long time."

Glinda giggled, her public persona on full force. "Well, Avaric, you know Fiyero. He is always busy with one training or another. He has been away. For work."

"Hunting for the Wicked Witch of the West?" Avaric guessed.

Glinda giggled again and place a hand on his arm. "Oh Avaric, you know that he can't tell you. It's all top secret. Even I have no idea. You know the thing about those secret missions – if they tell you, they will have to kill you." She giggled again.

"Really, Glinda. You trust him too much. Men can't be trusted. Especially good looking men."

"Do you mean yourself, Avaric?" Glinda teased him.

Avaric straightened the cuff of his sleeves, pleased at the compliment, and showing off the gemstones on his cuff links at the same time. "Everyone knows that I cannot be trusted around pretty ladies, Glinda," he replied with a wink. Glinda felt like gagging if she had to giggle one more time, but she did.

"But we're not talking about me here, Glinda dear. We're talking about your beloved fiancé. He's been away so much. Aren't you afraid that he is having an affair outside, screwing some women while pretending to be busy with work?" Glinda looked at him sharply, and it was only then that she realised that Avaric's face was red, a few shades too red to be attributed to the dim light in the restaurant. Fiyero took a step closer, his fists clenched by his side.

"What are you insinuating? Just because you cannot remain faithful to one woman does not mean that every man is like that." He looked behind his ex-classmate, at the table where he had come from. There was a woman there, a popular songstress, and she was dressed too provocatively for the dinner to be a business appointment. The woman looked up, as if she knew that she was being discussed. Avaric followed his gaze and chuckled. "Stunning, isn't she. And very willing too." He gave a dramatic pause. "Would you... like to be introduced to her?" He asked suggestively.

"You're sickening," Fiyero said in disgust.

"It's all business, Fiyero. She gives me what I want, and in return, I give her what she wants. Isn't it the same everywhere else? The Gale Force may be all men, but don't tell me there is no female prisoner who is willing to do anything in return for some favours. Let me ask you, Captain, do you get one to yourself, or do you guys share?"

Fiyero grabbed Avaric by his collar without warning, and it was only Glinda's timely intervention that stopped it from escalating into a full brawl. She slipped between the two men, and pushed Fiyero back gently.

"Dearest, please, we're in public," she coaxed him softly, and brought down his hand, still clenched. Behind her, Avaric pulled at his crumpled shirt, muttering something under his breath as his companion pulled him aside and tried to calm him down.

She could not say that she was not relieved when Avaric stormed out of the restaurant, his date behind him.

The other customers turned back to their meals as if nothing had happened, and the waiter hastily served their meals.

"I'm sorry, Glinda," Fiyero said after a while.

"Sorry?" Glinda asked curiously.

He waved his hand around with frustration. "Avaric can such an ass when he is drunk."

"He's an old friend, Fiyero. And I'm sure there are times when you're glad he's your friend."

Fiyero looked at her, as if he was about to say something, and then he nodded and went back to his food.

Instead of hailing a cab after dinner, Fiyero led the way to the 'surprise'. It was a shop a few streets away. The lights were still on, but there was this Closed sign at the door that he ignored. The interior of the shop was large, and there was a man and his two assistants waiting for them, measuring tapes hanging from their necks. Glinda looked at the half-finished dresses on the mannequins, and it was only then that that she realized that it was no ordinary shop.

She spun around and faced him.

"What is this?"

He was surprised.

"I... I thought that you would like this."

"But Fiyero," she said, her voice raised by a notch. "My parents have not given us their blessings!"

Fiyero was dumbfounded. "Madame Morrible reminded me this morning that a girl will take a long time to decide on her wedding dress and so I thought that you'd like to have a head start. She arranged for all this."

Glinda quickly composed herself. Madame Morrible. Trust her to give a nudge. She wondered if the shop owner and his assistants were required to submit a report after their visit.

She put on a plastic smile and approached a mannequin. The bodice of the gown was almost completed. The material was soft and silky, the top revealing a shoulder, with lace all over.

"What do you prefer, Dearest? Lace? Satin?"

Fiyero beamed at her. "Whatever you like, Glinda. You look great in anything."

She moved from mannequin to mannequin, pretending to take interest in each design, but even the idea of private, personalised shopping could not lift her spirits. She gave a soft sigh. Fiyero pulled her into his arms and she pressed her a finger to her temple.

"What is it?" he asked gently.

"Nothing, Dearest. I feel a headache coming on. Can we go?" she asked.

Fiyero nodded. "Of course, I'll send you back."

It was a while before a cab stopped outside the shop.

"Is it because of Avaric?" he asked as she laid her head on his shoulder in the privacy of the carriage.

"Fiyero, do you think that we are rushing into this?" she asked, hoping that the darkness in the carriage would hide her expression.

"Are we? Is there something that you want to tell me?"

Glinda sat up. "Fiyero, what if… what if there is someone out there for you?"

"Glinda," his voice took on a stern tone. "You listened too much to Avaric. There is no other woman."

"No, Fiyero. I'm not saying that you're having an affair. What if there is really The One? Someone whom you have been waiting for your whole life. Someone whom you are willing to give up everything just to be with her. Isn't it worth waiting to see if that is true?"

Fiyero chuckled.

"Having cold feet? I thought you have wanted to get married since you were twelve!"

Glinda huffed, slightly miffed. "Oh, Fiyero. I am not joking. What happen if I am not the one for you?"

His hands went to her shoulders, kneading them gently. "Glinda, is there something that you wanted to say? Is there something that you know? Or is this your way of saying that I'm not the one for you?"

Glinda looked at his eyes, and looked away just as quickly.

"No, nothing. Nothing, Dearest. I'm just babbling nonsense. I'm tired." She leaned against him again, and felt his arm wrapped around her and closed her eyes.

"Glinda, we don't have to do this if you are not ready. It's our wedding; it's not a show. There's no need to rush." She heard his voice behind her.

She sighed just as the carriage rocked to stop in front of the Wizard's Palace. If only he knew.

He walked her to her room and waited while she took a shower.

"Feeling better?" he asked when she emerged from the bathroom. She had changed into her sleeping gown, a pink, skimpy wear with lacey spaghetti straps which ended above her knees. If this had taken place one year ago, she would have gone back into her bedroom in that skimpy outfit alone and hoped that Fiyero would react like what a hot blooded young man would. But now she added a long sleeping robe and tightened the sash around her before she stepped out of the bathroom.

He passed her a glass of warm milk that she accepted with thanks. She took a sip before putting it down.

"Goodnight, Fiyero." She hoped he got the hint.

"Are you turning in soon?"

She nodded her head, not trusting her voice.

Fiyero coughed slightly. "Look, I'm so sorry for what happened today, Glinda."

"It's not your fault, Fiyero. Avaric can be a terror sometimes. I guess I got to ask all the establishments in the Emerald City to stop serving him alcohol," she said lightly, and got a chuckle from him.

"Goodnight, Fiyero," she said again, wanting him to leave, and she stood on her toes and gave him a chaste kiss on his lips, her hand resting lightly on his chest for support. Before she knew it, he was kissing her back, his passion escalating, a hand cupping her face while the other hand pulled her to him. It invoked memories of the way they kissed when they first started dating in Shiz, when they were so physically attracted to each other and had eyes for no one else, when Elphaba was just her strange roommate and not the girl who had unknowingly drew his attention and captured his heart. But Glinda did not wind her arm around his neck, she did not moan against his lips. She found herself struggling in his arms, pushing him away. She was not Elphaba. She was not the woman that he loved. She could not pretend to be the woman that he loved.

"Glinda?" The hurt in his voice brought her up short, and she froze in the act of wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, wanting to erase the feeling of his lips savagely on hers.

"I'm sorry," she apologised for no reason. "I'm… " she fumbled for an excuse. "I'm tired. I got a headache. I think I'll go to bed now." She backed towards her bed.

Fiyero's eyes were still wide, perhaps shocked by her reaction to his kiss, perhaps shocked by his own action, she did not know.

"Goodnight, Fiyero," she said for the third time, her chin up, trying to keep the shaking out of her voice.

Fiyero ran his fingers through his short hair.

"I'll…"

"Please lock the door on your way out," she said, her voice firmer.

He hesitated, and then nodded, the perplexed look still on his face as he left the room.

She sat on the bed, and gave a sigh of relief when she heard the lock turned in the other room. She buried her face in her hands.

Fiyero looked up at the sky as he stepped out of the Wizard's Palace, his hands buried deep in his pockets. The clouds were hanging low. It was raining somewhere in the east, and he had no doubt the rain would come to the Emerald City before the night was over. He let out a pent up breath.

Back in the room, Glinda got out of her bed and searched for something to wear.

Somewhere between Emerald City and Wend Fallows, a woman with a broom sought refuge underneath a large willow tree as the first drops of water fell. She would have to wait for the rain to pass before she could continue on her journey.

A petite blonde with a simple knee-length dress hopped into a cab outside the palace. She gave her destination to the driver. "Florinthwaite Club please."

A gust of wind blew across the captain's path as he made his way home, and he could smell the oncoming rain in the air. He quickened his steps.

The green girl stared at the rain, unable to keep the haunting images out of her mind. Images of an attentive man kissing his fiancée outside a bridal shop. The way his arm held her protectively, as if she was the most precious thing in his world.

Fiyero stepped into his house just as the rain poured.

The blonde ducked her head as she crossed the short distance between the cab and the lobby of Florinthwaite Club.

A rivulet of rainwater ran down the bark of the tree and the witch stepped away cautiously.

Glinda Upland of the Upper Uplands stopped in front of the door to the suite that took up the top level of the club and knocked on the door. She took a second to smooth her hair before she stepped across the threshold into the room where Chuffrey was waiting.

The Arjiki prince sat in the dark and thought of the woman whom he would be spending the rest of his life with.

The Wicked Witch of the West shivered, and it was not from the cold.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

***wave* to ****Guestie****. Thank you for your review! :D**

**This chapter has more than 6500 words. What can I say? I got carried away. :D**

The monthly meeting with the Wizard was always a boring affair. Ministers came and reported on the progress of the projects under their portfolios, trying to make their work (and themselves) sound more important than it actually was. The meeting had started early in the morning and showed no sign of abating even though it was way past lunchtime. Glinda was taking the minutes for this meeting and her fingers ached from all the writing. She dropped the pen on her notebook and gave her hand a shake, wondering if anyone would notice if a chunk of the discussion was omitted. She suspected that no one would.

Fiyero sat across the room from Glinda, the only Vinkun in a room of mostly Gillikinese, a handful of Munchkinlanders and one Quadling. His hands were clasped on his lap and he listened attentively to everything that was being said. He did not look at her. Glinda suddenly remembered that he would be called back to Vinkus one day, to take over the ruling of the Arjiki tribe from his father, and he would be bogged down with matters similar to these. He would want Glinda to go back with him, to be his queen. The idea of becoming royalty used to be vaguely exciting, but now it brought upon this dreadful feeling. She should not be the one who should go back with him. It should be Elphaba. She cast a glance at Madame Morrible who was seated next to the Wizard. She wondered if the older woman could read her thoughts, and subconsciously ducked her head.

The Transport Minister was requesting for more funds. The Yellow Brick Road was far from completed, but some parts of the roads were already showing wear and tear, while other parts had been destroyed by resistance groups and were in dire need of repair.

The Wizard asked him to submit his past year's and projected expenses and promised to look into his request. Madame Morrible spoke up.

"You're supposed to say no, Your Ozness," she told the Wizard, as if she was chiding a child. She turned to the minister.

"I will let it pass since His Ozness has agreed to provide more funds. But I'm telling you this - you're going to empty the treasury with your incompetency. Your job is not just to build. You need to figure out how to do more with less. Look for cheaper resources. Retrench some staff. If all else fails, fire yourself! You'll leave this room one head shorter the next time you asked for more money." She waved her hand, as if she was calling upon her powers, and the minister trembled in fear and backed off. Some of the staff in the room looked at one another. This was not the first time Morrible had overruled the Wizard, and everyone in the room knew that she was not just the press secretary. She was acting like a Grand Vizier. Sometimes she was behaving more like a ruler than the Wizard himself. And she knew sorcery and was not afraid to use it. Glinda felt a shiver down her spine. She looked at the ministers, at their worried faces with their hushed voices, and wondered if she was the only one who thought that way.

The next Minister was about to shuffle forward to submit his report when someone knocked on the door. Two of the Guards entered hurriedly and went over to Fiyero. One of them whispered something that elicited a frown from him. The Arjiki stood up, a solemn look on his face.

"Your Ozness, I'm afraid I have to go. The Wicked Witch of the West has been spotted in the City."

The announcement caused an uproar among the staff, covering the soft gasp that escaped from Glinda's lips. There were shouts all around, the ministers expressing their fear that the Wicked Witch would come to the Wizard's Palace and killed them. They raised their voices, asking the Wizard to tighten the security and assign more guards to protect them. Each of them swore that he was the one the Witch would kill. They would not be safe no matter where they hid. Glinda backed off slowly, shaking her head. Wondering why was Elphaba so foolish as to come back when she managed to escape the last round. She snuck a glance at Madame Morrible, at the smug look on the older woman's face, and knew that she would not let her Elphie off so easily if she was captured this time. There was a flash of green at the corner of her eye, and Glinda turned, half expecting to see her best friend in the room. She saw was Fiyero leaving the room with his men instead.

She ran after him.

"Fiyero! Wait!"

The Captain looked back.

"Yes, Glinda?" he asked.

"Is this true? Is she in the Emerald City?"

Fiyero looked at her, puzzled. "Yes. The tipoff came from a reliable source. Someone saw her in the Warehouse District. We're going to get her this time."

"Fiyero, please listen to me. You can't go. You _cannot_ go."

Fiyero knitted his eyebrows together.

"Why? Is there anything that you know? Is this an ambush?"

Glinda shook her head. "Please, Fiyero, trust me. You can't go. You can't kill her." She held onto his arms.

Fiyero gently pulled her hands away.

"Glinda. I can't leave my men to this. It's too dangerous for them to do this alone. The Witch has too many tricks up her sleeves. I need to be there."

She clung onto him again. "Fiyero, please don't go. Please, Dearest, please listen to me for once."

His face softened at her term of endearment, at the pleading in her voice. "Glinda, this is the chance to make everything right. I will not fail this time. Don't worry about me. I know what I am doing. I'll come back, safe. I'm sorry but I can't stay here while my men risked their lives for me. I'll be back before you know it." He pecked on her forehead, ready to run.

She grabbed his arm again. "Fiyero… you have to believe me! You… you…" The blonde shook her head frantically, trying to make the words came out. It was as if someone had cast a spell on her, making her tongue tied. She struggled with the words, trying to make her mouth form the words.

"Glinda." His patience was running thin.

"You love her!" she blurted, her voice barely above a squeak, but Fiyero did not hear her; his head was turned, listening to what his men were shouting.

"Come on, Captain, the Witch is not going to wait for you!" they jested.

Fiyero patted her hand absentmindedly, his impatience showing, and he ran after his men without another word.

Glinda tried to step forward, but her legs were frozen in place.

"Fiyero!" She called out to him as he took the stairs, but he did not even turn back and looked at her. She went after him, but he and his men were too fast, and her heels, which were not even meant for walking fast, hampered her progress. She stopped and tried to undo the ankle strap of her heels. She could hear the sounds of the men's boots on the stairs as they sped downstairs, their boisterous calls floating up the stairwell, all of them eager to make their way to the other part of the City to kill the witch. She imagined Fiyero following them, his lips pursed, a determined look on his face.

It took a long time to remove both shoes, and she ran downstairs, nearly stumbling down the steps. An ankle turned under her as she turned a corner too fast, and she bit her lower lip before she carried on. She reached the ground floor, flinging herself against the door as she heard the clops of the horses' hooves fading away. She ran across the courtyard barefooted, and stumbled when she tripped on a rock. Their transport was no longer in sight when she pushed herself up.

"Fiyero!" she called again, weaker this time as the tears welled up in her eyes. "But…. but you love her…." She shook uncontrollably as she repeated the words that he had not heard. The tears rolled down her cheeks and she pressed her hand to her heart, her heart aching with pain. But Fiyero was no longer there to hear it. "You love her…." She repeated again, softly this time as she sank to the ground, no longer caring if anyone could hear her.

* * *

Lest wrinkled his nose at the smell that had assaulted his sense the moment they had stepped into the Warehouse district. The air was stale, a combination of rotten rubbish, fumes of unknown origin and unhygienic characters. Whoever who said that the nose would get use to a smell after a while was absolutely wrong.

He might be a fifth son, but he deserved better than this, he thought to himself, deserved better than this lousy position that his miserable father had bought a few weeks ago, claiming that he needed to prove himself. He did not see his elder brothers having to prove themselves before the old man gave them their own shops. Curse Father and his double standards. But Lest marched on with his fellow soldiers. They were on their way to capture the Wicked Witch of the West, and the arrest of Oz's top terrorist would prove beyond all doubts that he was the best among his brothers. He was sure that his father would look at him with different eyes when he went back decorated and rewarded.

The guards stopped in front of a condemned two-storey building coated with cobwebs. The captain halted them with a raise of his hand. Lest never liked him. The captain was too handsome, as if he spent hours in front of the mirror every day, and everyone knew that there was always a tradeoff between looks and brains. And of course he _happened_ to be the fiancé of Glinda the Good. The Wizard was known for dotting on the petite blonde, and Lest had no doubt that it affected the Ozness' decision when it came to promotions. The blonde was still pretty for someone her age, but Lest always preferred his women younger.

The captain gestured for two of them to stay where they were. The rest stomped up the stairs.

The Wicked Witch of the West reached for her broom the moment the men came into the room. It was the first time Lest had seen the Witch, but there was no doubt who she was, with her wild unkempt hair and her hideous green skin. She wore a dirty black dress, and stooped slightly as if the evil deeds that she had committed across the years had twisted her posture. She darted her eyes around, taking in the enemies as she tightened her grip on the broom, her cooking forgotten. The bubbling of the soup was the only sound in the room. Lest took a quick look around the room. There were boxes and crates lying haphazardly around. He wondered which of them were used to keep her treasures.

Captain Tiggular was the first time to break the silence. He took a step forward, his gun raised.

"You're being surrounded, Witch," he said, his voice firm. "It would be wise of you to surrender." Lest hoped that the Witch would fight back. It would definitely make things more interesting.

The Witch fixed her eyes on the captain and snarled, but the captain did not even flinch. Instead, he took out his cuffs and took another step forward, confident in his stride. She swung her broom to the low burning flame, letting its bristles catch fire before she swung a wide arc at the captain, forcing him back. Another thrust, and the captain's sleeve was on fire.

The Captain dropped his gun and cuff in surprise and tried to beat out the flames with his other hand, shouting for help. A fellow soldier, Lest had no idea who, saw a bucket half filled with water, and hurled its content at the captain.

He was not the only one who was drenched.

The Witch raised her twiggy hand, but she was not fast enough. The water came into contact with her skin, and she let out a shriek, of pain, of surprise. Her face sizzled, as if someone had pressed a hot tong to her skin. She clawed at her own face, screaming, perhaps a desperate attempt to rip out the water somehow and save herself. She stumbled backwards and overturned the pot. Her skin boiled and bubbled, just like the soup moments earlier.

* * *

Glinda paced outside the Throne Room. The Wizard was in the room with Madame Morrible and a pair of guards, waiting for the good news. She wanted to go in and wait too, but she knew that Morrible would frown on her frazzled attitude and the way she was wearing out the carpet. Her foot had started to swell from the sprain and she took off her heels. The guards stationed at the door had been giving her strange looks, but she did not stop. She could not stop. She knew that she would start screaming in frustration the moment she stopped moving.

It seemed like an eternity before she heard a shout from the courtyard. They were back. It was another eternity before Fiyero and a few members of the Guards appeared at the corridor. He was holding onto something, a bundle or something. There was a charred stick in his hand. No, not a stick, Glinda realized with a start. It was Elphaba's broom. All the men had a grim look on their faces and none of them noticed the blonde waiting outside the door. One of the guards opened the door for Fiyero and the men marched in, slamming the door behind them.

Elphaba. Where is Elphaba?

Glinda wanted to press her ear to the door, but the guards were there. She chewed on her nails, and continued to wear out the carpet.

* * *

Madame Morrible stepped forward the moment the men in green entered the room.

"I trust that you have brought us good news, Captain," she said.

Fiyero nodded.

"The Witch is dead," he confirmed, his face stoic.

"Splendid!" the woman clapped her hands with joy. "How did she die? A slash at the throat? A thousand bullets?"

"Died by her own stupidity, Madame," Fiyero said as he threw the folded bundle and the broom to the floor. The soggy clothes dropped onto the floor with a muted clank and slowly unfurled itself as if it had a life of its own.

"The rumors are true," the captain explained. "She's allergic to water. We cornered her in her hideout, just as we planned. She tried to burn me in a bid to escape. One of my men hurled water on us to put out the fire. She burnt right in front of us, and melted into a puddle. She was screaming up till the last moment. There's nothing left except for her clothes and some sticky green substance. She is so toxic her poison even melted her own bones. It was not a pretty sight." Behind him, the rest of the men shuddered as they recalled the last moments of the witch, the screams that would plague their dreams for nights to come.

Madame Morrible cackled. "Great job, Captain. You have gotten rid of the terror of Oz. The whole of Oz are grateful to you. The Wizard is very proud of you. Aren't you, your Ozness?"

"Your Ozness?" Morrible asked again when there was no reply from the ruler of Oz. She turned back to look for the old man.

The Wizard was no longer seated on the throne. Instead, he had knelt on the floor, next to the evidence brought back by the Captain. But he was not looking at the cloak. Neither was he looking at the broom. Instead, he gingerly lifted up a corner of the soggy, sticky fabric before his other hand gently went in, as if he was trying to coax a wounded small animal from a cage, and retrieved an item that was under it. It was a green bottle, slightly larger than the palm of his hand, with scratches all over the place as if it had been handled far too many times. There was a faded label on the bottle, part of a word remaining.

He looked at the Captain.

"Where… where did you get this?" he asked, his voice and hands shaking.

Fiyero looked at the object in the Wizard's hand and shrugged.

"This must have been from the Witch's pocket. We don't have a body, but I thought that you would want some evidence so I took her cloak and the broom. It must have been in her cloak," he replied dismissively. "Let me have it, Your Ozness. It will not do if you are poisoned by her toxins." The captain reached out for the item, but the Wizard retracted his hands. He looked at the bottle, cradling it as if it was a baby.

"Your Ozness, it's over. No one can survive a melting. Not even Kumbrica can bring her back now," Fiyero said. Madame Morrible could not help but cackle again.

The old man looked at him again. "How old are you, Captain?"

"Twenty-six, Your Ozness," he replied without batting an eyelid.

"Twenty-six years. Twenty-seven ... Oh – " the Wizard suddenly let out a wail, and clutched the bottle tightly to him.

"Your Ozness?" Fiyero asked as he knelt down next to the Wizard. "Are you alright, Sir?"

Madame Morrible stepped forward.

"Your Ozness, I hope that these are tears of joy." She tried to pull him up by his arm but the Wizard pulled away. "Stop this pathetic show of wea-," she admonished him, but the man jerked his arm back again and stood up quickly.

"You! You lied!" He pointed an accusing finger at her. "Who is she actually? You said that she is the perfect candidate. You said she is an outcast. That she has no father, no mother, no family and no friends. That the world is better off without her!"

"You're being absurd, your Ozness. I have never lied to you!" Madame Morrible's voice rose slightly.

"Then what is this?" he shook the bottle in front of the press secretary threateningly.

Morrible could have seen something in the Wizard's eyes, for she balked.

"It's just an ordinary bottle. You can find it anywhere!" She insisted.

The Wizard took a step toward her, and the Press Secretary unwittingly took a step back. "Ordinary bottle?" he asked, his knuckles white from its grip.

"She must have stolen it!" She said.

"Where is she from? Who is her mother?"

"It doesn't matter. What matters is that she is the epitome of evil! She is the Wicked Witch."

"I'm not going to repeat again. Where is she from? What is her mother's name?"

The captain was the one who answered. "Her mother is Melena Thropp, Your Ozness, from Rush Margins, Munchkinland. She was married to a man named Frexspar the Godly, a travelling Unionist minister. She gave birth to her first-born twenty-six ago, a girl born green, green like sin." He replied without a trace of emotion. Morrible shot him a look, but he ignored her.

"Mel – " the Wizard stopped. "You knew it! You knew who she is! And yet you - " he snarled at Madame Morrible.

The woman stood firm. "You begged me for help so many years ago. To stop her from telling the truth. Does it matter who she is? She's the perfect candidate to unite Oz! She's been performing her role so well for so many years. All this hard work and you are not the least grateful! Have you ever thought of where you would be without me? Who cares about a night of fun you had decades ago?" she retorted.

"So you knew!" He raised his fist at her furiously. "Guards, arrest her!"

But Madame Morrible was too quick for them. She pushed the first guard who approached her toward Fiyero and ran for the door. The guard crashed onto Fiyero and the two men fell to the ground. The captain lost precious moments as he tried to get out from under the other guard, and the press secretary got the head start that she badly needed. She sprinted to the door and was out of the room within seconds. The door swung close and the men lost sight of her for a moment.

Fiyero rushed after her and wrenched the door open, half expecting the hallway to be empty. But what greeted them was a strange sight. Madame Morrible had fallen in a heap, her limbs splayed in all directions. Next to her, Glinda the Good retrieved her high heel before she smoothed out the creases on her skirt. The two guards quickly pulled up the older woman and twisted her arms behind her before they handcuffed her.

Glinda the Good looked at the men staring at her, her eyes wide with innocence.

"I'm sorry, Your Ozness. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I thought I heard you calling for the guards to arrest her. These doors aren't as soundproof as they ought to be, Your Ozness." She gave a soft tsk. "I'll arrange for them to be replaced within the week."

Fiyero could have kissed her at that moment.

Fiyero and his men escorted Madame Morrible to Southstairs, where she was placed in an isolation cell. There was no windows in her cell, and no opening except for a narrow slot where food would be delivered. Morrible was the one who had come up with the policy to burn metal cuffs on the wrists of prisoners who knew sorcery to prevent them from unlocking the cuffs, and Fiyero watched with grim satisfaction as the same was done to her. She would be held in the cell until the trial started, and if Fiyero had his way, she would be sentenced to death.

The Wizard was still in the Throne Room when the Captain returned to the Palace. The old man sat on the steps to his throne. Glinda was with him, speaking to him in a soft voice.

They looked up when the door opened, their faces expectant.

"It's over, Your Ozness," Fiyero reported. "Madame Morrible is now in Southstairs. Tomorrow we will start to prepare for her trial. I have instructed my men on what to do. I will like to take my leave now if you don't mind. There are plenty of things to do."

The Wizard gave an audible sigh, and Fiyero could not help but notice how gaunt he was, how much he had aged in the past few hours. One hand was clutching the green bottle, and the other, the broom.

"Captain, do you know who she is?"

"Who?"

The Wizard raised the bottle slightly.

"I met a woman once. Her name is Melena. She was married to this man who was never around. She was so beautiful. She had this laughter that sounds like bells in the wind. Twenty-seven years ago, I was just a travelling salesman, going from place to place, selling things that nobody wanted. She welcomed me into her house. And she was so lonely…" the man sobbed into his hands, and Glinda patted his shoulders.

He composed himself again and continued.

"I gave her this bottle. Green elixir, I called it. It's a drink, an aphrodisiac. The girl is mine, Captain. You can say that the girl could be fathered by another man, that there's nothing to stop her from having other men. I don't know. Maybe there are other men. But she is my daughter. This," he raised the bottle again. "This is the proof."

"And now, because of my stupidity, I have condemned her to a life of hell! I was not there to witness her birth and I was not there when she grew up." The Wizard sniffed. "I was the one who agreed to Morrible's idea of using her as a common enemy. I was scared, so scared that I was not good enough for the people of Oz, scared that they will see through my façade. Scared that they will not want me once she told them that I was a fraud. And it is just one girl. One outcast to unite the whole of Oz. It sounded like such a great idea at that time." The man paused. "I didn't mean all those things. I didn't mean to harm the Animals. I don't mean to harm her... if only I can turn back time… I don't want to rule. I don't want the power and the riches. I just want my daughter alive again…" The Wizard buried his face into his hands, his shoulders heaving.

Fiyero looked at the man in front of him. He got to go. He really got to go before it was too late. But the sight of the remorseful man rooted him to the spot. He remembered how the Wizard had mentioned his regrets previously, that he was so busy ruling Oz that he never got married and never had children of his own, and how much he envied people who had experienced the joy of parenthood. He remembered the few occasions when he had accompanied the Wizard out of the Palace and watched him as he talked to the people in the streets. He had a soft spot for children, and he would distribute candies to them and sang and danced with them. He always returned to the Palace with a smile on his face and referred to those occasions fondly long after that.

Fiyero Tiggular made up his mind. He knelt down and put a hand on the Wizard's shoulder.

"Your Ozness," he said when the Wizard looked up. "It may not be too late."

* * *

Elphaba had been crouching in the same position for so long. Night was falling, and she could no longer see her outstretched fingers in the dark. The rays from the setting sun turned the room above the trapdoor a brilliant golden red, but none of that light streamed into the hiding place below. The place was small, its length less than that of an arm span, its depth barely enough for her to sit upright. She knew that she could leave now, but she also knew that it would be safer to wait till it was totally dark so that she could leave undetected. There was no reason to take more risks than what was necessary.

Elphaba blew at her arm, at the blisters that had formed, trying to ease the sting that she felt, knowing that her skin was now hot to the touch. There were blisters on her face too, and her face was numb. There was no way she could cover her face without arousing suspicion, and she knew that the burns that formed immediately when the water touched her skin would be witnessed by the soldiers; it would add a convincing touch to the act. The cloak that was made by Milla, painstakingly coated with beeswax, had repel most of the water, but it was not totally waterproof. She could feel the blisters forming the moment the water soaked through the fabric, but the show must go on, and she did not dare to reach for the towel until Fiyero and his men had left, afraid that even the slightest sound would alert them to her hideout under the trapdoor.

She closed her eyes at the thought of Fiyero. She would be lying if she were to say that she had not expected him to appear. He had been so obsessed in his hunt for the Wicked Witch of the West that she was sure he would lead the team if he was informed of her reappearance. She had nearly faltered when he first stepped into the room. She had nearly called out but his name, but his ice-cold eyes had stopped her. There was not a flicker of recognition on his face when he had trained his gun at her and called her Witch and demanded that she surrendered.

The man whom she loved, the father of her unborn child, determined to kill her.

She drew in a shaky breath. Perhaps it was all for the best.

Somewhere, a piece of wood creaked. Elphaba tensed. Silence followed, and she was about to dismiss the sound when she heard it again. The sound of a plank of wood groaning under a heavy weight. The sound repeated again, and then again. Successive groans that was broken by the stomp of a boot. No, not boot. Boots. She could hear the hushed voices growing louder.

She was no longer alone.

The sounds stopped at the top of the stairs, and light streamed into her hiding place through the small gaps between the wooden planks. They had entered the room.

"So why are we here?" a voice asked.

A second voice laughed. "Are you scared?"

"Of course not," the first voice replied, but his voice said otherwise. "This place may be haunted though," he added after a while. "After all, someone just died here."

The other man scoffed. "Oh come on. There is no such thing as ghosts. And witches don't have souls, so they can't turn into ghosts. And even if there is, I will shoot the ghost into pieces. Boom!" He imitated the sound of a gunshot badly before he laughed.

"Then let's go. There's nothing here."

"You can go if you are scared. I'm looking around."

"What for?"

"Oz, you are really stupid. She has been plundering the rich. She must have hidden her loot somewhere, so why not here? Can you imagine how rich we'll be if we find those stuff? I'm talking about gems, gold, money. I'm not going to split them with you if you choose to stand there like a block." Above her, the man crossed the room. His companion hesitated, but the promise of hidden treasures was too great to resist for long.

There were only a handful of things in the room, yet it seemed to take the two men a long time to go through them. Elphaba heard the sounds of hands rifling through the items in the boxes, boots kicking at crates, items being swept off the walls. The men even knocked on the walls in search of hidden compartments. She heard a stream of curses when the men were not able to find anything, and one of them kicked at the wall in frustration.

She cast a worried look at the trapdoor just as a pair of boots stepped over it. They stayed there for some time before they moved away again. She breathed a sigh of relief, and the boots were back again, stomping on the trapdoor.

"It's hollow."

Sweet Oz.

She knew that it would be fruitless to hide from them. The place was too small. There was no corner for her to hide. It took them so long to find the spring mechanism that she began to hope that they would give up and go away. And then she heard the familiar chink sound and the trapdoor opened.

Light flooded in, blinding her momentarily.

She stood up to her full height and opened her hands wide, trying to make her look bigger than she really was. "What do we have here?" She cackled. "Two fools tired of living?"

The soldiers shrunk back. One of them took one look at her seemingly melted face and bolted down the stairs. She expected the second soldier to follow suit but a twitch of his mouth told her that he would not be so easily scared off. Her suspicion was confirmed half a second later when his expression turned vicious and he swung his rifle at her without warning. She tried to duck but the trapdoor folded behind her hampered her movement. The gun struck against her blistered face and she slammed painfully against the side of the opening. The world spun around her.

"I knew it!" the man declared triumphantly. "I knew there is something fishy about the whole thing. Melted by water? My foot!"

Elphaba tried to stand up, but the soldier kicked at the opened trapdoor and the wood slammed down on her lower back, pressing her stomach against the frame of the trapdoor. A sharp pain shot through her torso and she fought to suppress the cry that was at her lips. The green girl pushed herself up and crawled out of the space painfully. She lie on the floor, gasping painfully as she waited for the pain to fade away.

A maniacal laughter above her reminded her that she was not alone.

Elphaba looked up and saw a gun pointing at her.

"One wrong move, Witch, and I will blow a hole in your head. I'm sure the Wizard can still identify you without your head." The soldier sniggered as he cocked his gun.

* * *

A carriage sped through the streets, travelling much faster than it should. It rocked badly, made worse by the potholes that dotted the streets in this area. There were four men in the carriage - the Wizard, the Captain of the Guards and two of the Wizard's bodyguards. The Wizard held on tightly to the hand grip above the door, his eyes wide with terror. One of his bodyguards' face was turning green.

Yet Fiyero felt that they were not fast enough.

He had wanted to go alone, but the Wizard had offered his carriage, which was the fastest vehicle that they had, on condition that he went along. Fiyero agreed without hesitation; he did not want to waste precious time arguing. The moment they were in the carriage, the captain had instructed the Wizard's bodyguards not to harm the Wicked Witch under any circumstances, and he knew from their looks that they thought that he had a mental breakdown. The looks remained even after the Wizard had told them the same thing.

Fiyero knew that the worst was over. Madame Morrible had been arrested and the Wizard was ecstatic when he found out that she was not dead. But there was that uneasy feeling that was growing in the pit of his stomach, as if something would go wrong, as if he had missed out something crucial. He looked at the buildings speeding by and wished that the carriage could fly.

The carriage suddenly halted to a stop when they were two streets away from the warehouse district. He looked out of the window, and swore at what he saw.

There was a cart, hitched to an ox and stacked sky high with chopped timber that was most probably used as firewood. The ropes that had secured the wood had snapped, sending the timber to the ground. There were two men trying to pick up the logs, but their progress was slow, and the street was unpassable until they were done.

Fiyero gave strict instructions for the bodyguards to stay with the Wizard and leaped out of the carriage. He started to run the moment his feet touched the ground, picking up speed as he went. His heart hammered hard, both from the exertion and from the unexplained fear that grew by the second. The corn exchanged seemed so far away.

The low-rent warehouse district was unusually quiet. The streets in the area was usually deserted after nightfall, but even then there would be shadows lurking behind the walls and in the alley. There was no way to explain the deserted streets when the sun was just setting, no way to explain the eerie feeling that seemed to hang in the air, as if the all the buildings were holding their breath, waiting for something momentous to happen.

He was at the foot of the stairs of the old corn exchange when he heard a shot. The Arjiki stopped in his tracks and stared at the stairs in disbelief. There was no mistake where had the sound come from.

No. He was not too late. He could not be too late. Please no. Please.

Elphaba!

He charged up the stairs, his heart screaming her name.

There was a lamp near to the door, lying on its side. The glass had broken, but the flame inside was still burning, providing enough illumination to light up its immediate surrounding.

Fiyero did not notice the splintered crate, the victim of a misaimed shot. He did not see the trapdoor, opened for all to see. He barely noticed the overturned boxes and crates, their contents spewed all over the floor. All he saw was one of his men, a man named Lest, the latest addition to his troop, giving Elphaba a kick at her side. The green girl curled into a fetal position and her hand went to her stomach instinctively. Her face was in the shadows, but he could see from the tense curve of her body that she was in terrible pain. The soldier spat at her, and then stepped over her body. He bent down to pick up something from the floor next to her.

A gun.

Lest looked up as he was about to stand up, and his eyes widened when he saw the captain at the door. Fiyero knew the exact moment when he remembered that his captain and he were no longer on the same side. The man pulled up a limp Elphaba easily with one hand and grabbed her in a chokehold when she struggled feebly with her eyes closed, his other hand pressing his gun against her temple. He opened his mouth, ready to issue his threat.

Fiyero pulled the trigger without a second thought. He did not need to hear what his man had to say.

The man jerked when the first bullet hit his shoulder, and he let go of the green girl. A second shot penetrated his chest, the blood darkening his dark green uniform. The gunshot echoed in Fiyero's ears, even as the man stumbled backwards, even as the Arjiki prince dashed towards the woman whose legs finally gave way.

He caught her just before she hit the ground.

Her eyes fluttered opened, glazed, uncomprehending.

Fiyero said the only word that was in his mind.

He watched as her eyes finally focused on him, when her mind finally processed the significance of that word.

Her name. Elphaba.

His queen. His love. The light of his life. The name of the girl that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. The reason that kept him up at night. The woman whom he would willingly give up everything for.

A badly blistered hand reached out tentatively, and her lips parted into a faint smile when her fingers touched the wetness on his cheek.

And then she was in his arms and it was all that mattered.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

**Hello to Guestie, aramenunicorn &amp; Guest! Thank you for your reviews! :D**

Elphaba sat on the couch, a book in her hand. It was the fourth book that she had read that day, since Fiyero had left the house before the crack of dawn. For the fiftieth time, she lifted the hardcopy to her nose as she took in the scent of the book, the smell that was a mix of newly dried ink, fresh, crisp paper and the glue on the spine. A smile touched her lips, and the smile did not diminish as she looked at the stacks of books that surrounded her. Fiyero only had a few books in his house and they were all work-related, and so the Arjiki had dropped by one of the bookstores near to the palace and had bought everything that he thought would interest her. It had taken the shop owner three trips before the books were delivered to his house. The prince had totally forgotten about the need for shelving space though, and that was how the books came to line the floors next to the walls, forming a paper bridge with colourful, uneven heights.

Elphaba rubbed her bleary eyes, she closed her eyes momentarily to rest them. She wished that she still had her glasses, but she had lost them so many years ago when she had fled the Emerald City. Fiyero had promised her that he would bring her to an optician for a new pair once he had the time.

It had been three days since Fiyero had found her at the corn exchange, since he had shot his own man to stop him from harming her. Since he had hugged her and refused to let go even when the Wizard and his bodyguards had arrived. The prince had even wanted to carry her to the carriage waiting downstairs, but no way was Elphaba going to let him do that. They had gone down the stairs together instead, the Captain of the Guards putting a protective arm around her, looking threatening at the small crowd that had gathered outside on hearing the consecutive gunshots.

A doctor and a midwife had come by that very night. After a lengthy checkup (during which Fiyero hovered in the background as he watched the two doctors with his hawk eyes, ready to pounce on them the moment anyone made a wrong move), both doctors had given Elphaba and the baby a clean bill of health.

It was an exhausting, eventful day, and the pain and painkillers that the doctor had prescribed should have sent her to sleep, but sleep had eluded them that night. Elphaba had lain in his arms, tracing his tattoos in the dark, guided by nothing but her memory, while he spoke of the days without her. He had left before sunrise the next day, and in the days after that, and only came back late at night; the Wizard had tasked him to follow up with the investigation and the trial of Morrible. She knew how much he wanted to stay with her, and how much she wanted him to stay, but she let him go. There were many things that he needed to oversee, damage control to do, wrongs to right.

Fiyero knew how fast rumours would spread, and he had asked four of his most trusted men to guard the house. The objective was to keep people out as well as to keep Elphaba in, which obviously did not go down well with her.

She knew what would happen when she was harboured in the house. The citizens of Oz had been informed that the Wizard would be making an official announcement at noon. There would be a large crowd, eager to see the ruler who, in recent years, no longer addressed the public directly. The Wizard would inform the citizens of Oz on the charges brought against Madame Morrible – treason, falsifying of accounts, bribery, etc, and to proclaim Elphaba's innocence. Fiyero had told her as much. She knew that it would be very hard for the citizens to accept the changes. It would be hard for them to accept that the person that they had known as the Wicked Witch was innocent, and that her verdigris was not a sigh of wickedness. It was not perfect, a huge contrast to the dreams that she had when she was younger, but it was much better than what she had hoped for. She had always thought that she would spend the rest of her life as a fugitive, toiling, and maybe died under a hail of bullets or left to rot in Southstairs. She shook her head to clear her thoughts and continued with the book. The book depicted the life of a Gillikinese merchant who had spent several years living with the Scrows, and the green girl soon found herself engrossed in the mysterious culture of the West.

Fiyero came back in the late afternoon. He took off the coat of his emerald green uniform the moment he stepped into the house and went straight to the study. Elphaba had found one of his baggier shirts and had worn it, leaving her left shoulder and arm exposed. Her hair was pulled to her right and tied into a braid. The sight of the burns on her face and arm stopped him, but he fought to suppress the pain that he felt for her and stepped into the room, ready with a smile.

He slid onto the couch, and touched her forehead with the back of his hand.

"No fever," the green girl told him with slight annoyance, but the barely concealed smile on her lips told him that she welcomed the attention. He smiled.

"Hey to you too," he said, and her smile widened while her eyes remained on the book until she finished the paragraph. She turned to him and returned his smile.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"That's my favourite shirt," he told her.

"I suppose you want it back?" she asked as she turned to her book again.

"Not now. You look better in it. Though I have to admit that I'm very tempted to say yes if you are actually not wearing anything underneath," the prince teased her as his hand strayed and touched her collarbone gently.

"Very funny," she scoffed as she looked at him and rolled her eyes. She went back to her book, ignoring him. He counted to twenty before he removed the book from her hands and put it on the armrest.

"Stop reading," he told her.

"And do what?" she asked him innocently. Fiyero did not say anything, but answered by pulling her into his lap. His eyes roamed from her eyes to her nose before resting on her lips, prolonging the anticipation before he kissed her lightly on her lips. She tittered against his lips, and Fiyero deepened his kiss when she straddled him and wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers grasping at his short hair. He curved his arm to her back, taking care not to touch her injuries. He kissed the unblemished side of her jaw before going back to her lips again, those tantalising grey lips of hers.

"I still think I'd prefer to read a book," she deadpanned when they drew apart. She faked an attempt to reach for her book, only to be pulled back into his arms, her back pressed against his front.

"So I'm second to a book?" he asked as his fingers went for her waist, tickling her. She doubled over, cackling, and Fiyero pulled her back to him again, locking his arms around her waist. He pressed his face to her hair, her neck, and she ceased her wiggling and tilt her head as she let her laughter subsided. He planted a trail of kisses on her neck, her right shoulder, his fingers interlocking with hers. She leaned against him as she closed her eyes, letting his warmth and scent washed over her, feeling the way each individual kiss seemed to sear her skin with his love.

"Look at this," he said with a slight awe in his voice. Elphaba opened her eyes. His hand was holding hers, but she could not see whatever he had wanted her to see.

He laced his fingers with hers and stretched her right arm to its full length, and shifted so that his legs were alongside with hers. She looked at their limbs side by side, brown and green and almost the same length, but she still had no idea what he was talking about.

She turned and looked at him, a questioning look in her eyes.

"See? Look at my hands and legs. They are the perfect length to yours. They are made for holding you in my arms. I'm made for you, Elphaba."

She swore that her whole body was blushing.

Fiyero planted another kiss on her shoulder.

"By the way, I'm cooking. Glinda is coming for dinner."

Elphaba smiled at the news. She turned to him again, an arm around his neck.

"So what's for dinner?" she asked.

"Lots of stuff. Mushroom pasta. Salad and soup. Lots of vegetables. Lettuce, spinach, tomato, carrot, beet root, corn, pepper, onions, celery, potato. All the colours for the different nutrients. Vitamins A, B, C, K, magnesium, potassium, folate, manganese. I have bought salmon steak for Glinda, but there's extra just in case you want to try. You should. Our baby needs lots of nutrients to grow." His hand went to the swell of her belly, touching it gently.

"I love you Baby," he told his unborn child in a childish voice, and looked up at Elphaba, matching his smile with hers.

"And I love you," he told her solemnly, as if it was the most important thing in the world, an irrefutable fact. Maybe it was, to him. He brought her left hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips, the only part of her hand that was not burnt. He cupped her face, and tilted his face, seeking her soft lips again. Slowly, gently, deeply. His other hand went down her back, to her hips, went under hem of her shirt, touching her bare skin, and Elphaba gasped against his lips. Down to her throat again, her collarbone as his hand strayed lower. She pulled his body to hers and suppressed a soft moan against his skin, the sound reverberated throughout his body like a calling.

They had all the time in the world.

"So you're not going to ask me about it?" he asked after a while, the green girl still in his arms.

"About what?"

"You know what I mean, Elphaba," he said.

"You're back. You're smiling. You've bought food for dinner and we have…" She trailed off, not wanting to describe what had just happened. Fiyero raised his eyebrows and she stared at him defiantly. He looked at her from head to toe, his eyes telling her how much he wanted her. She blushed. She had never understood why he loved her, and would never understand why this Vinkun dreamboat still desired her after so long. Fiyero chuckled at the darkening of her cheeks. "We had a brief discussion on the merits of having food of different colours in our diet and there are no soldiers rushing in with guns and spears to arrest me," she continued after yet another lingering kiss. "I think I can guess the outcome of the announcement."

He pouted. "You're a spoilsport. Can't you even pretend that you are curious?"

Elphaba chuckled as she rested her head on the curve of his neck. "Alright, so tell me."

He wrapped his arms around her again.

"Glinda announced that Madame Morrible had been arrested for treason. We had found some evidence in her office when we did a search yesterday, and it is enough to dictate her. I'm sure we will discover more when we conduct a more thorough search. The people are surprised of course, but you know Glinda, she can turn black into white. She talked about the impartiality of Ozian justice and the crowd was cheering for the Wizard and his administration by the end of her speech. The Wizard stepped up then. He is not as eloquent as Glinda, but the people love him. He told them that he had a few shocking news to announce, and asked the people to let him finish before they ask any questions. He told them that he had made mistakes in the past, that he was remorseful, and he hoped that the people would give him a chance to make things right. He proclaimed your innocence, saying that you have been framed, and announced that he will start to look into the different laws personally to see if they need to be changed. He hinted that some of the banns may be repealed, but sought the people's understanding that change will not come overnight."

She raised her eyebrows. She had not expected that.

"Yackle came after the announcement."

"Yackle?"

"She just marched into the palace. I'm surprised that no one stopped her. She sat down with the Wizard and told him what he should do next, the things that he should look into."

"Yackle? I never know that she is interested in politics."

"I still don't think she is, but I think she knows that the Wizard needs help. And he was listening attentively when I left the Throne Room. There may be hope for him yet."

Elphaba gave a sardonic laugh.

"He wanted to tell the whole world that you are his daughter," Fiyero said after a while, enjoying the feeling of being able to hold her in his arms again, the way her body rose and fell with each breath against his, being able to hear her laughter. "Glinda stopped him."

Her lips pursed into a thin line and the lines deepened on her face. Elphaba shook her head. "I'm not his daughter."

"He asked if he can come here and see you. He wants to apologise to you in person."

Elphaba shook her head again as she snuggled closer to Fiyero, suddenly cold for no reason. "I don't want to see him."

Another pause.

"He offers me the position of Grand Vizier," Fiyero told her.

Her fingers tightened around him involuntarily.

"Did you accept it?" She asked after a while, her voice softer.

Fiyero pulled her slightly away so that he could see her face. "Do you want me to take it?"

She frowned, trying to hide how she felt. "It's your life, Fiyero. Not everyone can have this chance."

"And not everyone can lose the love of his life and get her back again. It will be a busy job. I will be expected to put in long hours and travel much of the time. It may be the chance of a lifetime for many people, but not me. I have more important things in my life." He kissed her lightly and leaned his forehead against her. There was no need for him to say what, or who, was the most important thing in his life.

"Fiyero?"

"Yes?" he asked.

"Let's leave this place. Let's leave Emerald City."

He nodded, and then pulled her into his arms and kissed her again.

Glinda arrived when Fiyero was busy preparing for dinner. Elphaba was with him, trying to make herself useful but the bottles of Vinkun spices and Gillikinese condiments were strangers to her.

"Elphie!" the tiny girl's voice reached them even though the kitchen was at the back of the house.

The couple laughed, and Elphaba went out and welcomed her friend.

Glinda had changed into an elegant pastel pink dress with puffy sleeves. Her hair was washed, blew dry and pinned up with rhinestone hairclips. Obviously, the urgent need to see her best friend did not overtake her need to look good in all occasions. And the need for shopping.

"Baby!" She squealed with delight as her hand went to Elphaba's swollen belly. That was followed by a death hug before she pulled the green girl to the couch.

"I can't believe it when Fiyero told me that you are having a baby! A baby! And he only told me this afternoon! He had the cheek to hide it from me for so many days!" the blonde lodged a complaint with Elphaba.

The prince peeked into the room at that moment.

"Fiyero, can I have some cold juice please?" Glinda asked, snapping her fingers at him, her annoyance with him over the late announcement adding to her impatience. "I'm thirsty. Shopping is serious business." Fiyero nodded wordlessly and disappeared from sight, appearing soon with two glasses of juice.

The blonde guzzled hers at one go. She opened her tiny handbag and took out a tiny box. She opened the box and took out a tiny ankle bracelet filled with various exquisite charms.

"According to the Upland tradition, every newborn should have a bracelet with charms stating his strengths." She pointed out the various charms - a book, a spear, a horse, an abacus among them. "This is my first present to my future godson. The rest will be delivered tomorrow. All ninety-nine of them," she declared with pride.

She dropped the bracelet onto Elphaba's outstretched hands, and her eyes widened as she saw the white bandage that peeked out from under the long sleeve that had covered even her hand. Her eyes went up to Elphaba's face, to the gauze that had looked so innocent at first glance. Both Fiyero and Elphaba had decided that the burns would be covered up before Glinda arrived. There was no need to upset the blonde with the extent of her injuries, but it seemed that there was no escaping Glinda's sharp eyes.

"Does it hurt?" she asked cautiously. Elphaba had always been careful when she was in Shiz, and this was the first time Glinda had seen such extensive injury on her.

The green girl nearly lied, and then shook her head. "But I'll recover." She covered Glinda's hand with hers and tried to ease her fears.

Fiyero came in just then and informed the ladies that dinner was ready.

"So tell me, how did you manage to pull it off?" Glinda finally asked the question that had been bugging her for the last few days when dinner was over. "I know now that you didn't lose your memory the second time round, but how? And where did you get the green bottle?"

Fiyero clasped his fingers together.

"I don't know how it works. There is an old lady I know. Her name is Yackle and she has this older, ancient friend who knows sorcery. I met her when I was about one day away from the Emerald City, sitting on a boulder along the Yellow Brick Road, waiting for me. She didn't say much. She just told me to have faith. Elphaba had mentioned previously about a green bottle that used to belong to her mother. According to her Nanny, the bottle was given to Melena by a man, and Nanny had hinted heavily that there was something between the two of them. I knew that the bottle that you had was Elphaba's, and I have seen another one with the Wizard. My plan was to take the bottle and confront the Wizard with it when I have the chance. He always said he would love to have his own children. I just hoped that the idea that he had been harming his own daughter would bring him to his senses."

Glinda eyes widened. "So that was my bottle? But when did you get it?"

Fiyero fidgeted for a while before he continued. "Remember the night when we went to the bridal shop? I took the bottle when you were in the bathroom. I could have asked you for it, but I didn't know if I could trust you. I'm sorry, Glinda, for not trusting you, for playing all those mind games," he apologised. "But I can't get you involved. Morrible would not show any mercy if she found out what I was planning, and the lesser you know, the safer you'll be. Nothing escapes her eyes. I have to be very careful. I have no idea if she has added that extra spell that she talked about, the spell that will make me …" he coughed slightly, uncomfortable with the topic. "I have to be totally convincing. And if that means that I have to pretend that I'm totally in ... " Fiyero reached for Elphaba's hand.

He thought for a moment, wondering how he should phrase it. "I'll do anything just to get her back."

Glinda looked at Fiyero as he looked at Elphaba lovingly, and she knew that they would not talk about that night again, and what could have happened if she had not pushed him away.

He took a sip from his drink.

"The corn exchange is a place where we have met before, with Yackle. I noticed the buckets of water, but I did not know what she had in mind at first. Why she had to tip off the whole platoon. She could have leave me a message and I would have gone willingly to her. But I guess I've managed to fool everyone, including her."

Elphaba interjected at that point.

"I know that the Gale Force will never stop looking for me so long as I live. It does not matter when I was alone, but I have to think for my baby." Her hands went to her belly subconsciously. "I know that I have to 'die'. Just start over somewhere else – Ev, the Badlands, anywhere. It does not matter if Fiyero was there. I just need witnesses, credible witnesses to my 'death'. I torched his uniform with my burning broom when he was close enough."

"Thank goodness my man grabbed one of the buckets and splashed water at us. I knew of her allergy, but she has more to fear from the infection from the burns than from an actual melting. The Ozians and the Wizard believe the rumours though, and it works to our advantage. The sizzles and the smoke are very impressive though." He brought up her bandaged hand and pressed her fingertips to his lips.

Elphaba smiled at the compliment.

"Chemical reactions that we have studied in school. I'm sure you'll know them if you have not failed your Chemistry so miserably," she deadpanned.

Fiyero feigned horror. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

Glinda giggled.

"So," the blonde asked when she was done giggling. "How did you manage to circumvent Morrible's spell? Did Yackle's friend put some preventive spell on you?"

"I don't know," Fiyero shook his head, and then he smiled a cheeky smile at Elphaba. "But I believe it's because we've got something stronger."

"What's that?" Glinda was curious. What could be stronger than sorcery?

"We have true love," he said as he grinned at Elphaba.

Glinda giggled again and Elphaba rolled her eyes. But the green girl could not hide the slight smile that appeared on her lips.

"The Wizard spoke to me just now," Glinda told Elphaba as Fiyero went to the kitchen for more drinks. "He is thinking of revoking the Animals Banns. So what are you going to do now that there are no more Animals that need to be saved?" she asked Elphaba.

"We're leaving," Elphaba told her.

Glinda dropped her jaw. "Why? You are no longer a fugitive. You are now the flavour of the month, a celebrity. You're popular."

Elphaba shook her head. "Precisely. I think I need to get away from here for a while. I don't need all those eyes on me."

"But where are you going?"

"I don't know. I will let Fiyero decide. I have been making plans and backup plans and backups of backups for so long I'm surprised my hair has not turned white. I think it's time I let my brain rest. I'll go wherever he wants to go. It'll be nice for a change, not having to make the decisions."

Fiyero came back at that moment.

"What decisions?" he asked.

"On where we're going," Elphaba told him as he sat down next to her, their thighs touching. Fiyero put an arm around her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. He wondered if he would ever outgrow this need to keep having her by his side, to keep touching her. He suspected that he never would.

"I've decided where we're going," he announced to the girls.

"Where?" Glinda asked.

"First, we'll go to Munchkinland. Boq and Milla have named their baby Emillia, after a university friend, and I think little Em is eager to see her godmother. We'll go to Kiamo Ko after that."

"The castle?" Glinda tried to recall the things that Fiyero had mentioned about the Arjiki stronghold. "But there is nothing there."

"My parents will be there," he said, and the woman who was leaning against him sat up.

"What? We're going to meet your parents?" Her brown eyes widened.

Fiyero chuckled as he pulled her to him again.

"I'm just kidding. They're at the Thousand Year Grasslands with the tribe and won't be back until late autumn."

Glinda had been seeing it the whole evening, but it was only then that she finally understood what she had been seeing.

"You're happy," she said to Fiyero.

"What?" the prince turned to her, confused.

"With me, you are always serious, always thinking. It had been like that for years. But with Elphaba, you are smiling and laughing. You are teasing her all the time. You're happy."

Fiyero looked at the woman beside him. She had rested her hand on his right thigh, at the same spot that she had stitched so many months ago. So much had happened in the last two years, but it seemed that they had finally seen the light at the end of the tunnel.

"Yeah," he admitted as he slipped his hand into hers and laced their fingers. "I think I'm happy."

"So … why Kiamo Ko?" Glinda still did not understand. "There is no one there. There's nothing to eat. You are not going to starve Elphie, are you? She's thin enough as it is."

"We can always get food from Red Windmill," he explained, referring to the town nearest to the castle. "But we will have the castle to ourselves. There will be no one else. It will be perfect, for making new memories of just the two of us before the baby arrives. I owe her that."

The trio continued to talk, until Glinda yawned and they all realized how late it was. They walked the blonde to her carriage which had been waiting for her, and Glinda suddenly remembered.

"Wait," she said as she took out something from her handbag and pressed it into Fiyero's hands. "I… I think I should return this to you."

Fiyero looked at the item on his palm, the stone sparkling in the dim light. A ring.

"Well, I…" Glinda shrugged her shoulders. "You didn't exactly give me this, but I think I should give it to you. I'm officially breaking up with you, Fiyero Tiggular," she said with a mischievous grin.

Fiyero hugged his ex-fiancée, and it was a long time before he let go.

"I'm sorry, Glinda. For not trusting you, for not loving you enough, for not being the one for you."

"Oh Fiyero! You're making me cry." Glinda took out a handkerchief and dabbed at the corners of her eyes. "At least you didn't dump me for someone like Pfannee. You're just not the one for me, Fiyero. I didn't know then, but I know now. I know what I want now."

Fiyero raised his eyebrows.

"Chuffrey?"

Glinda smiled at the mention of his name and tried to cover up.

"Well, I don't know… I mean, I know that he's older than my Popsicle. He walks with a cane. He can no longer dance, and the last time anyone called him handsome was maybe thirty years ago. But he has been giving me very good advice, and he really cares about me. And it does not hurt that he has the largest stock portfolio in the Pertha Hills and loves the city life. He can be perfect."

With that, Glinda hopped into her carriage and waved goodbye to them until her carriage disappeared from sight.

"So... Kiamo Ko," Elphaba said when they went back into the house. "Won't you be bored? With no other company except for boring-me?"

"That's the plan. Just me and you, without the need to look behind our shoulders every few minutes."

"You'll be bored."

"Elphaba, we did live in the forest for a year and I was not bored." He acted indignant.

"Acorn and Chistery were there. And there were always Animals and people dropping in. And you have a small plot of land to tend to."

"It'll just be me and you." He stood his ground. "I won't bring Acorn and Chistery over until spring."

"Then you'll need a plot of farmland, a very large plot of land." Her hands stretched wide to emphasise her point. An upturn of her lips, teasing.

He shot out a hand and tried to grab her, but the agile girl leaped away, laughing. Fiyero tried to reach for her again but she was faster, darting behind the couch so that the furniture was between them.

"You really don't think that I can do it." Fiyero tried to distract her as he tried to figure out which direction she would go next. The probability was 50-50.

"I don't believe that you can do it." She cocked her head to one side and shook her head dramatically, her hands on her hips. "But …"

He leaped over the back of the couch then and grabbed her good hand, pulling her to him. She laughed at his victorious grin, a hand sliding up his chest, her eyes sparkling as he wrapped his arms around her. "But?" he asked.

"But I hope that you will prove me wrong," she replied with a wicked grin and kissed him.

**It's been more than 3 years since I was drawn to the alternative world of Oz and started writing Wicked fanfiction. I would like to say a big Thank You to all those who have read, reviewed and favourited my stories, and whose who have fangirled/fanboyed with me at one time or another. A special thank you to those who have shown me what good writing can be (you know who you are) even when it is 'just fanfiction' - I can no longer read mediocre published novels because of you :D. Shout out to LittleMissDelirious for being so supportive across the years &amp; for gushing endlessly about GoT, and MyLittleElphie for being so encouraging when I was having doubts with this story (imagined readers' response "Fiyero losing his memory? That's been written to death!"), and for flooding my mailbox with lots of Wicked and Jemma pictures. :D It's been a great journey, filled with lots of joy, angst and sleepless nights (and daydreaming during office hours, but let's keep that between us) and definitely one of the highlights in my otherwise boring real life. Thank you.**

**Reviews are still welcome, and loved =)**

**~~~ The End ~~~**

**~~~ The Search , a Wicked fanfiction ~~~**

**~~~ drafted : 1st March 2014 – 17****th**** August 2015 ~~~**

**~~~ published : 27th December 2014 – 5 Dec 2015 ~~~**


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